MY  NEW  HOME 


IN  NORTHERN  MICHIGAN, 


BY  CHARI/ES  W 


TBENTON,  N.  J.  : 
PRINTED  LY  W.  S.  AND  E.  W.  SHAKP,  23  EAST  STATE  STREET. 


1874. 


Entered  according  to  act  of  Congress  (before  Congressional  virtue  had  festered 
^     into  Credit  MoUlier  villainy  and  back  pay  theft,)  in  the  year  1874,  by 

CHARLES  W.  JAY, 
In  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington, 


DEDICATED. 

FIRST — To  CHARLES  V.  MEAD,  who,  in  the  day  of  direst  necessity 
came  voluntarily  to  my  relief,  and  positively  refused  all  recompense, 
•when,  at  a  more  fortunate  period,  I  had  the  ability  to  evidence  my 
honesty  and  gratitude. 

SECOND — To  the  public,  from  whom  I  never  received  or  deserved 
favors. 

THIRD — To  myself,  as  an  egotist  who  attempted  fame  without  sta 
bility  of  character,  and  succeeded  only  in  achieving  a  questionable 
notoriety. 


M272147 


CONTENTS. 

Page. 

Biographical 9 

Prefatory 12 

My  Xew  Home  in  Northern  Michigan 15 

How  the  "Old  Settler"  Settled  My  Potato  Bugs 56 

The  First  Death  in  Our  Little  Sunday  School 62 

Darwinism  Vindicated  and  Confirmed 69 

A  Tale  of  the  Wars  of  Pontiac 74 

My  First  Hunt  in  My  Xew  Home 102 

My  Maple Ill 

Another  Interesting  Interview  with  the  "Old  Settler"....  115 

The  Vision 127 

Jane  Jerusha  Skeggs 128 

A  Two  Dollar  Visit  from  the  "Old  Settler" 130 

The  Deserted  Cabin,  A  Tale  of  Northern  Michigan 135 

I  Meet  My  First  "Ingin" 144 

The  Spectre  of  the  Hemlock  Gorge 150 

My  Mother 162 

The  "Old  Settler"  Goes  to  Church  in  Full  Dress 163 

To  My  Little  Sparrow 176 

My  Angel 177 

To  the  Reader...  ...178 


BIOGRAPHICAL. 

fllHE  average  reader  of  those  kind  of  books  that  are  mainly 
JL  founded  on  the  personality  of  the  writer,  are  apt  to  be 
curiously  inclined  to  know  something  of  the  private  history 
of  the  one  who  thus  ventures  publicly  before  them  as  a 
claimant  to  their  favorable  consideration.  There  is  generally 
a  feeling  of  sympathy  with  such  reader  toward  such  author, 
which  strengthens  with  the  progress  of  perusal,  until  it 
ripens  into  the  desire  of  a  more  minute  knowledge  of  the 
outer  and  inner  life  of  him  who  has  so  interested  them. 

Knowing  that  this  little  book,  the  child  of  my  later  years, 
will  be  kindly  received  and  welcomed  by  a  large  number  of 
men,  and  a  far  greater  number  of  women — the  latter  always 
permitting  the  flood  of  sympathy,  in  which  eddies  the  worth 
less  driftwood  of  "  sentiment,"  to  overflow  the  shallower 
depths  of  the  brain — I  proceed  at  once  to  unlock  myself  to 
all  such  as  may  be  under  the  suggestions  of  curiosity,  or 
the  promptings  of  interest,  for  a  glance  or  a  stare  at  the 
"  elephant,"  as  he  swings  his  inky  trunk  through  the  coming 
pages. 

Like  all  truly  great  and  eminent  men  —  at  least  in  this 
our  own  country  —  I  was  born  "  of  poor  but  respectable 
parents."  My  father  was  a  shoemaker,  and  waxed  poorer 
and  poorer  with  the  yearly  increase  of  his  family,  until  he 
could  hardly  make  both  ends  meet.  His  sole  means  of 
support  was  his  trade,  at  which  he  hammered  away  day 
and  night,  in  order  to  get  the  upper  hand  of  the  hard 
necessity  that  tacks'd  all  his  energies.  At  last,  by  unre 
lieved  confinement,  he  was  assailed  by  a  stitch  in  the  side, 


PREFATORY. 

THIS  is  my  first  attempt  at  publication  outside  of  the  col 
umns  of  a  newspaper.  Through  a  period  of  thirty  years  I 
have  been  connected  with  journalism  in  the  city  of  Trenton, 
and  have  written  more  upon  the  ephemeral  subjects  of  the 
hour  than  any  other  man  in  the  State  of  New  Jersey ;  and 
-without  boasting,  may  be  permitted  to  say  that  but  very  few 
other  writers  have  penned  so  little  worthy  of  preservation. 
I  wrote  as  the  humor  happened  to  direct  or  necessity  impelled. 
'ess  of  what  I  said,  indifferent  to  public  opinion,  reck 
less  of  the  effect  upon  my  personal  interests,  I  "  went  in  "  on 
the  Irish  injunction  of  "  wherever  you  see  a  head,  hit  it." 

The  natural  consequence,  of  course,  reacted  upon  myself. 
Talent,  misguided,  may  be  in  demand  when  the  temporary 
passions  of  the  people  blind  them  to  the  amenities  of  contro 
versy,  or  the  whispered  monitions  of  judgment;  but  as  the 
tumult  passes,  and  reason  returns,  the  champion  of  mere 
strife  is  weighed  in  a  more  carefully  adjusted  balance,  and 
"  found  wanting  "  is  labelled  upon  his  merits.  I  know  and 
feel  all  this,  but  it  is  a  principle  of  moral  law  that  the  reck 
less  man  learns  wisdom'  when  it  is  too  late  to  be  benefited 
thereby.  Whether  this  law  is  relaxed  in  individual  cases,  is 
in-:  now  a  conundrum  in  which  I  have  special  interest,  and 
the  solution  cannot  be  very  far  distant. 

But  to  this  book.  I  resolved  upon  it  only  a  few  weeks 
ago,  and  have  written  it  without  method  or  forethought,  and 
with  all  the  rapidity  that  I  could  draft  into  the  service.  In 
fact,  it  has  been  rather  an  effort  of  muscle  than  of  mind,  and 
a  charitable  judgment  is  invoked  upon  the  result.  Rude  sir, 


PREFATORY.  13 

or  gentle  madam,  to  be  honestly  blunt  with  you,  the  writer 
needed  money,  and  as  borrowing  is  "  played  out,"  in  panic 
times,  your  servant  adopted  the  only  alternative  that  gave  a 
faint  promise  of  temporary  relief.  What  little  of  pecuniary 
value  remained  to  the  subscriber  in  this  world,  went  up  in 
that  interesting  balloon,  known  as  the  Northern  Pacific  Rail 
road. 

And  therein  rests  the  reason,  explanatory  of  the  fact  of  my 
charging  so  much  more  for  this  volume  than  it  is  really  worth  ! 
When  one  has  been  badly  skinned  by  reposing  confidence  in 
others,  it  seems  that  he  naturally  takes  a  sort  of  melancholy 
satisfaction  in  getting  even  by  skinning  everybody  else  who 
can  be  inveigled  within  the  reach  of  his  clutches.  That's 
what's  the  matter  with  your  author. 

It  is  proper  to  state  that  a  portion  of  my  work  in  refer 
ence  to  Northern  Michigan  was  written  at  odd  hours  for 
Beecher's  Magazine,  and  is  republished  without  revisal,  and 
with  all  its  imperfections  as  first  hastily  penned.  Most 
of  the  other  sketches  were  recently  reeled  off,  and  handed  to 
the  printer  just  as  they  dropped  from  the  pen,  without  addi 
tion  or  subtraction.  I  know  they  are  very  imperfect,  far 
short  of  what  a  purchaser  has  the  right  to  expect.  But  I've 
got  your  money,  and  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it  ? 
The  financial  morals  of  the  American  Congress  must  be  sus 
tained  by  an  enlightened  and  loyal  constituency.  That's  the 
kind  of  a  man  I  am  ! 

As  I  said  before,  this  is  my  first  effort  in  the  story  line  of 
publication,  and  written  under  the  spur  of  necessity.  And 
if  the  two  love  tales  herein  unfolded  seem  maudlin  to  the 
ancient  maiden  or  the  wrinkled  beau,  please  retrace  your  own 
earlier  days  of  romance,  and  remember  that  we  boys  will  be 
boys,  and  that  the  love  foibles  of  youth  are  the  most  pardon 
able  in  heaven  and  on  earth,  of  all  the  weaknesses  of  our 


14  PREFATORY. 

poor  fallen  nature.  Spinster  of  an  uncertain  age ;  beaux 
rejuvenated  by  hair  dye,  and  unhappy  because  December  is 
not  June,  relax  the  frown  of  jealous  envy,  and  take  a  philo 
sophic  view  of  the  antics  of  us  youth  ! 

A  few  words  more,  and  I  disappear  from  my  introductory 
audience. 

There  are  certain  smart  fools,  who  appreciate  sound  better 
than  sense,  who  will  be  able  to  find  a  world  of  fault  with 
these  unpremeditated  compositions.  Before  all  such,  I  kneel 
in  confession  at  the  threshold.  The  writer  of  these  pages 
never  studied  grammar  an  hour  in  his  life,  and  at  this 
moment  does  not  know  the  scholastic  distinction  between 
a  noun  and  a  pronoun,  a  verb  and  an  adverb,  a  participle 
and — and — that  other  feller  of  the  parts  of  speech,  whose 
name  I  have  forgotten.  And  the  beauty  of  it  is  that  I  don't 
care  the  flip  of  a  copper  for  all  such  deficiencies. 

"  What's  all  the  learning  of  your  schools, 
Your  Latin  names  for  horns  and  stools  ? 
If  honest  Nature  made  you  fools, 

What's  all  your  grammar?" 

But  I  fear  that  this  will  be  found  too  extensive  a  prelude  to 
the  careless  and  indifferent  performance  that  is  to  follow.  I 
only  again  exclaim,  in  the  language  of  the  illustrious  Tweed, 
martyr  to  spasmodic  municipal  virtue,  "  I've  got  your  money, 
and  ichat  are  you  yolny  to  do  about  if  /"' 


MY  NEW  HOME  IN  NORTHERN  MICHIGAN. 


AFTER  an  almost  unbroken  residence  of  fifty  years,  by 
birth  and  citizenship,  in  the  State  of  New  Jersey,  on  the 
evening  of  the  13th  of  November,  1871,  I  turned  my  face 
Westward  to  join  my  family  in  Northern  Michigan,  wife  and 
children  having  preceded  me  by  a  few  months.  Perhaps 
there  is  no  man,  however  stolid  by  nature,  or  hardened  by 
habit,  who  can  release  the  ties  of  a  lifetime,  and  bid  adieu  to 
scenes  endeared  by  associations  running  back  to  the  earliest 
recollections  of  childhood,  without  at  least  a  momentary  sad 
ness  shrouding  all  his  thoughts,  and  recalling  his  moral 
outlawry  back  to  the  comparative  purity  of  earlier  years.  Not 
being  a  preceptible  exception  to  this  natural  law  of  emotion, 
I  admit,  without  moral  reservation  or  secreted  intent  of 
deception,  that  I  turned  my  back  upon  the  city  of  my  birth 
and  took  up  the  long  journey  before  me,  with  not  exactly 
that  alacrity  of  feeling  that  is  popularly  supposed  to  animate 
the  bridegroom  on  his  way  to  a  marriage  altar,  or  his  after 
trip  for  a  Chicago  divorce.  As  the  train  lumbered  over  the 
Old  Delaware  Bridge  at  the  legal  speed  of  three  miles  an 
hour,  I  found  that  my  heart  was  in  rebellion  at  my  self- 
expatriation,  and  that  a  perceptible  trifle  of  unwonted  moisture 
had  welled  up  from  some  long-neglected  spring  away  down 
in  the  darkened  recesses  of  memory. 

But  this  effervescent  weakness  was  not  of  long  duration. 
Sorrows  of  this  nature  are  like  those  of  childhood,  touching 
but  brief ;  the  sun  soon  absorbs  the  April  shower.  It  has 


16  MY    NEW    HOME    IN    NORTHERN    MICHIGAN. 

been  divinely  and  wisely  ordered  that  pangs  of  feeling  are 
not  chronic;  they  touch  sharply  and  depart  swiftly;  there 
would  be  small  happiness  in  the  world  else. 

At  midnight  the  train  that  bore  the  undersigned  and  his 
fortunes  moved  slowly  out  from  the  depot  of  the  Pennsylvania 
Central,  just  over  the  Market  street  Schuylkill  bridge,  at 
Philadelphia,  and  pushed  on  into  the  darkness  upon  its 
mission. 

But  fate  seemed  averse  to  my  "  new  departure/'  and  mani 
fested  her  displeasure  at  my  rebellion  throughout  the  journey. 
AVhile  the  glare  of  the  city  lights  was  still  visible  from  the 
car  windows,  the  iron  horse  balked,  and  notwithstanding  the 
fireman  "  hauled  him  over  the  coals/'  he  only  continued  to 
snort  at  intervals  for  a  full  hour  before  he  could  be  goaded  to 
his  ordinary  speed. 

Lager  is  a  great  somnificator,  and  the  undersigned  soon 
faded  away  gently  into  the  arms  of  sleep. 

"  Sleep  that  knits  up  the  ravell'd  sleeve  of  care" 

is  one  of  the  few  ancient  institutions  that  has  not  gone  out  of 
fashion,  and  still  maintains  its  original  connection  with  its 
younger  brother,  Death,  in  the  counterfeit  business.  Sleep 
pretends  to  be  death,  and  awakes  in  this  world.  Death  fools 
annihilation  by  leaping  from  the  grave  into  the  indescribable 
glory  of  eternal  life.  If  this  is  a  delusion,  in  God's  name 
hold  on  to  it !  It  never  hurt  anybody  yet. 

Early  dawn  found  us  entering  the  gorges  of  the  Alleghe- 
nies.  A  furious  storm  howled  through  the  desert  solitude, 
and  the  lofty  tree  tops  swayed  to  and  fro,  as  if  seeking  relief 
from  agony.  On  our  right  the  beautiful  but  erratic  Junjata 
wound  its  way  towards  the  still  more  lovely  Susquehanna  ; 


MY  NEW  HOME  IX  XORTHERX  MICHIGAN.  17 

and  just  here  memory  awoke  as  from  a  long  protracted  sleep, 
and  unrolled  one  of  her  strangest  pages  for  my  perusal. 

Nearly  thirty-five  years  ago,  ere  I  had  arrived  at  the  estate 
of  a  voting  citizen  of  this  great  and  greatly  humbugged 
republic,  I  passed  along  this  very  spot,  on  the  bosom  of  this 
very  river,  looking  exactly  as  it  does  now,  unchanged  by  time 
and  its  innovations.  I  was  then  on  my  way  to  Ohio,  at  that 
day  a  frontier  State,  with  the  great  West  beyond  almost  un 
known,  and  a  Pacific  Railroad  undreamed  of,  save  in  the 
despotic  vagaries  of  Tom  Ben  ton.  I  had  six  silver  half- 
dollars  in  my  pocket,  with  two  dollars'  worth  of  wardrobe 
secured  in  a  shilling  handkerchief,  and  my  passage  paid  to 
Cincinnati.  A  strong  heart  and  willing  hands  were  con 
sidered  a  good  outfit  for  a  boy-man  in  those  days.  It  is 
different  now. 

The  Juniata  at  that  time  was  made  tributary  to  the  needs 
of  internal  commerce  by  what  was  called  "slack  water  naviga 
tion."  Dams  were  constructed  across  the  river  at  intervals, 
by  which  its  waters  were  widened  out  into  ponds.  From  the 
canal  our  boat  would  be  guided  into  these  ponds,  dragged 
along  for  miles,  then  slipped  on  to  trucks  that  ran  into  the 
water  from  the  railroad  track,  railroaded  other  miles,  then 
again  slid  into  the  canal,  then  into  the  river,  and  so  alternat 
ing  to  the  end. 

It  seems  strange  to  look  back  and  see  how  we  were  carried 
over  the  highest  ridges  of  the  mountains.  At  the  top  of 
the  ridges  were  powerful  stationary  engines.  When  our  boat 
on  the  railroad  trucks  would  reach  the  base  of  these  steep 
elevations,  a  huge  cable  would  be  made  fast  to  the  head 
of  the  train,  and  the  stationary  engine  would  draw  us 
up  the  dangerous  steep.  When  we  reached  the  short  level  of 
the  top,  the  cable  would  be  attached  to  the  rear,  and  we 
would  be  let  down  on  the  other  side  by  a  like  process.  'Taint 


18  MY   NEW    HOME    IX    NORTHERN    MICHIGAN. 

so  now !  AVe  go  over  and  under,  thread  valleys  and  wind 
precipices,  pass  innumerable  "  dead  lines  "  within  an  inch  of 
eternal  smash,  and  the  traveller,  unless  he  chances  to  look 
from  his  window,  cannot  tell  if  it  be  prairie  or  mountain  he 
is  crossing. 

I  remember  one  sight  in  that  early  trip  over  the  mountains 
that  fastened  my  attention  so  that  it  will  be  available  unto 
death.  The  board  shanties  that  enclosed  these  stationary 
engines  just  referred  to,  were  fairly  "papered77  with  the 
skins  of  huge  rattlesnakes,  tacked  thereto  by  the  attendants, 
who  had  amused  their  idle  hours  by  capturing  these  inter 
esting  specimens  of  natural  history.  The  exhibition  fairly 
made  my  flesh  creep,  snakelike,  then,  and  the  memory  of  it 
now  is  not  exactly  a  soothing  balm  to  nervous  inquietude. 

As  we  descended  the  western  slope  of  the  mountain,  fate 
renewed  her  attempts  to  thwart  my  purpose  of  leaving  New 
Jersey  to  mourn  my  permanent  removal  from  her  territory. 
Our  delay  at  Philadelphia  had  given  an  emigrant  train  the 
"  right  of  way/7  and  as  this  train  had  a  trifle  less  than  four 
teen  thousand  Dutchmen  on  board,  bound  for  Wisconsin  and 
Minnesota,  its  headway  was  retarded  beyond  the  usual  dila 
tory  gait  of  such  lines,  as  governed  by  the  "  time  table." 
One  hundred  and  fifty  miles  east  of  Pittsburg  we  overtook 
said  emigrant  line,  and  were  compelled  to  halt  a  full  half 
hour  to  enable  it  to  get  ahead  of  the  chances  for  a  collision. 
A  short  run  brought  us  again  in  view  of  our  unwelcome  con 
sort,  and  another  impatient  halt  was  the  result.  And  so  we 
continued  until  we  reached  the  doomed  (I  came  near  writing 

it  d )  city  of  furnaces,  fire,  and  bituminous  brimstone, 

fully  six  hours  behind  time. 

At  4  o'clock  P.  M.,  we  started  up  the  banks  of  the  Alle 
gheny  river,  crossed  the  Ohio  about  dusk,  and  found  our 
selves  on  a  straight  road  running  through  a  country  of  an 


MY    NEW    HOME    IN   NORTHERN    MICHIGAN.  19 

almost  unbroken  level.  A  furious  storm  was  raging,  the 
rain  came  down  in  sweeping  floods,  and  the  winds  raged 
with  an  incessant  fury  that  found  few  precedents  within  our 
memory.  About  midnight,  when  everybody  on  board  who 
had  a  good  conscience  was  asleep,  or  should  have  been,  fate 
made  another  desperate  effort  to  stay  my  flight  from  the 
home  and  associations  of  a  long  life,  and  the  despairing  citi 
zens  of  a  sovereign  and  independent  State,  Tom  Scott,  and 
the  fused  monopolies  of  Camden  and  Amboy,  and  Pennsyl 
vania  Central  included.  She  uncoupled  the  palace  car  in 
which  I  reposed  in  slumbering  innocence,  from  the  rest  of 
the  train,  and  the  engineer  being  doubtless  asleep,  did  not 
hear  the  parting  of  the  bell-rope,  and  the  speed  of  thirty-five 
miles  an  hour  continued  unchecked,  leaving  us  standing  upon 
the  track  with  the  hurricane  howling  for  admission  at  every 
window !  In  about  thirty  minutes  the  engineer  discovered 
his  loss,  and  returned  to  repair  damages.  All  hope  of  mak 
ing  up  lost  time  before  reaching  Chicago  was  now  abandoned, 
and  the  locomotive  settled  down  to  a  less  alarming  speed. 

We  reached  the  charred  ruins  of  the  City  of  Divorces 
about  noon  the  next  day.  As  the  Northwestern  line  through 
Wisconsin  had  left  without  waiting  for  our  connection,  we 
had  five  hours  to  stay  for  the  evening  train.  I  found  it 
impossible  to  realize  that  the  still  smoking  mounds  through 
which  I  wandered  were  the  debris  of  what,  a  few  days  before, 
was  one  of  the  largest  and  most  enterprising  and  wealthy 
cities  in  the  world.  In  an  unbroken  view  of  miles,  scarce  a 
wall  was  left  standing.  The  long  lines  of  former  streets 
•could  only  be  plainly  traced  by  the  almost  unscorched  Nich 
olson  pavement  that  stretched  through  the  endless  arteries 
of  what  had  so  recently  been  the  proud  and  wicked  com 
mercial  capital  of  the  mighty  and  expansive  West.  Vast 
heaps  of  machinery  of  cunning  skill  and  matchless  work- 


20  MY    NEW    HOME    IN   NORTHERN    MICHIGAN. 

manship,  now  disjointed  and  warped  out  of  all  usefulness  by 
the  destructive  element  that  had  tried  it  in  the  ungovernable 
furnace  of  fervent  heat,  were  to  be  seen  on  all  sides.  The 
front  of  some  of  the  principal  blocks  of  stores  could  be 
traced  by  the  huge  iron  safes,  that  still  rested,  in  almost 
uniform  lines,  where  they  had  dropped  through  into  the 
ashes.  For  miles  upon  miles  all  the  more  palpable  evidences 
of  a  great  conflagration  had  been  removed.  Of  the  scores 
of  churches,  whose  vain  pomp  of  architecture  had  so  recently 
mocked  the  manger  of  the  founder  of  Christianity,  the 
ruined  walls  of  one  alone  remained.  The  horrid  gaps  in  its 
blackened  masonry  seemed  grinning  in  mockery  of  its  proud 
founders,  and  its  steepled  dome  leaned  dangerously  from  the 
Heaven  its  pride  had  so  recently  offended. 

Reader,  your  imagination  is  unequal  to  the  task  of  fully 
contemplating  the  matchless  ruins  of  Chicago.  Pen  and 
pencil,  with  their  almost  divine  magic,  are  feeble  here.  Think 
of  twenty-seven  hundred  acres  of  crowded  warehouses  and  costly 
dwellings,  filled  with  all  the  productions  and  luxuries  of  a 
highly  stimulated  commercial  civilization,  reduced  to  ashes 
in  a  fiery  crucible — a  hatful  of  alkali  to  each  million  dollars — 
and  you  have  the  facts  in  a  convenient  compass  for  contem 
plation  ! 

At  5  o'clock  I  started  for  Milwaukee.  The  track  lies 
along  the  western  shore  of  Lake  Michigan,  that  wonderful 
body  of  fresh  water  that  is  more  dangerous  to  vessels  than 
the  Atlantic  ocean,  and  whose  wrecks  are  more  numerous 
than  those  of  any  sea  in  the  world.  AVe  arrived  in  Milwau 
kee  about  9  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  here  fate  made  a  last 
desperate  effort  to  divert  me  from  the  continuance  of  my 
journey  to  almost  solitary  exile  in  the  wilderness.  A  groat 
wind  smote  the  lake,  and  the  steamer  dare  not  venture  out 
upon  the  turbulent  waters  !  I  staid  all  night  at  the  Kirby 


MY    NEW    HOME    IN    NORTHERN    MICHIGAN.  21 

House,  an  excellent  Hotel  with  all  possible  accommodations, 
and  kept  by  a  fine  looking  landlord,  and  a  gentleman  of  most 
courteous  dignity  of  bearing.  His  name  is  A.  Kirby.  Fare 
only  $2  per  day.  I  paid  my  bill,  so  this  is  no  "  dead-head  " 
notice. 

Milwaukee  is  a  city  of  ninety  thousand  inhabitants,  seventy 
thousand  being  of  German  origin.  It  is  situated  on  a  high 
bluff  of  the  lake  and  has  a  secure  harbor.  It  is  solidly  and 
massively  built  of  cream  colored  brick,  and  does  an  immense 
business  in  grain,  pork,  beef,  and  general  merchandise,  and 
is  destined  in  a  few  years  to  become  a  great  and  notable  city. 
And  yet  in  1840,  Milwaukee  was  refused  a  post  office  by  the 
government  on  the  ground  of  not  having  inhabitants  enough 
to  justify  such  a  favor  !  Think  of  this,  ye  dull  natives  of 
Trenton,  and  go  into  your  holes  !  Your  city  is  five  times  as 
old  as  this  place  in  the  wilderness  of  Wisconsin,  and  yet  you 
have  not  stamina  enough  to  build  a  mile  of  railroad,  and  you 
are  without  a  hundred  yards  of  decent  street  pavement  in  all 
your  borders  !  Avaunt ! 

The  Germans  are  a  wonderful  people  in  a  new  country. 
Democratic  in  politics,  and  jealous  of  the  encroachments  of 
government,  these  great  elements  of  sturdiness  in  manhood 
and  pride  in  citizenship,  constitute  the  Germans  the  most 
desirable  emigrants  possible  for  a  nation  like  ours.  It  was 
Western  German  patriotism  that  went  farthest  in  the  support 
of  the  government  during  the  aristocratic  slave-holding  rebel 
lion.  Coming  from  a  country  where  tinselled  courts  and 
sensual  potentates  absorbed  the  greatest  share  of  the  profits 
of  honest  toil,  they  could  hold  no  sympathy  with  a  treason 
that  intended  to  perpetuate  a  like  condition  of  things  in  a 
republican  government. 

It  is  a  suggestive  sight  to  stand  at  the  depot  and  watch 
the  arrival  of  the  long  lines  of  emigrant  trains  as  they 


22  MY    NEW   HOME    IN    NORTHERN    MICHIGAN. 

pour  into  Milwaukee.  You  see  thousands  of  German  mcny 
women,  and  children,  dressed  in  the  loose,  coarse  costumes 
of  their  country,  clamber  down  from  the  cars  to  await  the 
next  trains  toward  their  destination.  The  father  and  mother 
have  great  burdens  of  bedding  upon  their  backs,  under  the 
weight  of  which  they  are  compelled  to  stagger.  The  little 
children  follow  after,  each  one  with  some  household  utensil 
in  hand,  silent,  wondering  and  contented  in  happy  expecta 
tion.  And  these  people,  dumb  to  our  language,  strangers  to 
our  laws  and  customs,  scatter  themselves  into  the  wilds  of 
the  vast  West,  and  in  a  few  years  hew  out  new  States  to 
brighten  in  our  confederate  constellation.  May  Germany 
ever  have  a  free  and  full  welcome  to  our  shores. 

The  next  evening,  at  9  o'clock,  I  went  aboard  of  the  large 
and  staunch  steamer  "Lac  La  Belle/7  or  "  Belle  of  the  Lake," 
bound  for  the  Michigan  shore  at  Grand  Haven,  directly  oppo 
site  Milwaukee.  The  boat  was  advertised  to  leave  at  half- 
past  9  o'clock,  and  I  found  about  fifty  strong  and  rough- 
looking  men  in  the  cabin,  mainly  wood-choppers,  on  their 
way  to  the  Michigan  forests  to  fell  pine  trees  for  the  hun 
dreds  of  steam  saw  mills  that  line  the  shore  of  the  lake  from 
Grand  Traverse  to  Grand  Rapids  river,  a  distance  of  three 
hundred  miles.  But  the  steamer  did  not  leave  her  moorings 
until  near  1  o'clock  the  next  morning.  All  night  long  a 
large  body  of  men  was  engaged  in  rolling  and  carrying  the 
cargo  on  board,  until  not  a  foot  of  stowage  room  remained. 
And  even  then  thousands  of  tons  of  the  produce  of  Wisconsin 
farms  remained  in  the  immense  freight  depot  awaiting  ship 
ment.  The  destruction  of  Chicago  has  temporarily  doubled 
the  business  of  Milwaukee,  and  an  immense  amount  of  freight 
has  been  thus  diverted  from  the  Michigan  Central  to  the 
Milwaukee  and  Detroit 'Railroad,  on  its  way  to  your  eastern 
seaboard. 


MY    NEW    HOME    IX    NORTHERN    MICHIGAN.  23 

The  bell  finally  sounded  its  parting  salute,  the  gang-ways 
were  cleared,  and  we  steamed  out  of  the  Wisconsin  river  into 
the  seemingly  limitless  waters  of  the  great  lake. 

Michigan  is  the  most  treacherous  of  waters.  It  covers 
nearly  three  times  the  surface  of  the  entire  State  of  New 
Jersey,  and  is  as  capricious  in  its  moods  as  an  infant.  You 
start  upon  its  waters  under  a  cloudless  sky,  with  a  breeze 
hardly  sufficient  to  stir  the  curls  (false)  upon  the  neck  of 
beauty.  In  less  than  an  hour  you  will  see  the  wary  mariner 
scanning  a  cloud  in  the  west  no  bigger  than  a  man's  hand.  It 
spreads  with  the  rapidity  of  electricity,  and  the  winds  rush 
from  their  caves  to  sport  with  the  wave  and  its  wrecks.  The 
vessel,  which  but  a  few  moments  before  steamed  along  with 
hardly  preceptible  motion,  now  begins  to  strain,  and  groan? 
and  plunge,  under  the  torture  of  the  aroused  elements.  Soon 
the  cabin  is  a  scene  worthy  of  the  admirer  of  the  animate 
picturesque.  Men,  women  and  children  are  pitched  from 
one  side  of  the  cabin  to  the  other,  and  thrown  about  in  a 
manner  that  would  be  most  ludicrously  laughable,  but  for  the 
fact  of  there  being  no  disinterested  spectator  to  the  per 
formance.  All  are  compelled  to  take  a  hand  in  the  game ; 
and  the  emptying  of  stomachs  upon  the  floor,  or  into  each 
other's  laps,  is  the  rule,  instead  of  the  exception.  The  cuss 
who  could  laugh  at  his  associates  in  misery  under  such 
circumstances,  must  be  a  trifle  Satanic  in  his  humor ! 

The  marine  statistics  of  Lake  Michigan  for  the  year  just 
passed,  show  disasters  to  over  one  thousand  vessels.  She 
rarely  releases  the  dead  from  her  depths  of  a  thousand  feet. 
Her  fretted  waters  have  neither  tides  nor  currents,  save  such 
as  her  erratic  winds  bestow  upon  their  surface.  As  I  sit  here 
now,  writing,  in  my  little  log  cabin,  the  wind  blowing  a 
partial  gale,  I  can  hear  thundering  surges  upon  her  beach, 
coming  in  landward  through  the  dark  and  dense  forests. 


24  MY    NEW    HOME    IX    NORTHERN    MICHIGAN. 

But,  on  the  occasion  of  which  I  write,  Fate  seemed  to  have 
withdrawn  further  protest  against  my  departure,  and  yielded 
to  the  proverb  that  "a  willful  man  must  have  his  way."  The 
lake  was  on  its  best  behavior,  and  but  a  gentle  ripple  dis 
turbed  its  placidity.  I  lay  until  daylight  upon  the  cot  of 
my  state  room,  disturbed  only  by  the  melodious  snore  of  the 
burly  bison  of  a  backwoodsman  who  bunked  above  me.  Once 
I  reached  up  and  punched  him  in  the  side  with  my  umbrella, 
but  the  monstrous  heathen  only  grunted  an  anathema,  and 
snored  the  louder !  Pardon  me,  Rev.  Sir,  if  I  prayed  for  a 
shipwreck  to  avenge  me  upon  mine  adversary  ! 

At  daylight  I  arose,  refreshed  like  a  toad  under  a  harrow, 
and  ascended  to  the  deck.  The  high  sandy  bluffs  of  the 
Michigan  shore  of  the-  lake  loomed  up  dimly  in  the  far 
distance.  A  thousand  sea  gulls  flapped  their  white  wing* 
against  the  placid  waters,  or  sailed  in  the  higher  atmosphere 
above  us.  Far  inland,  out  of  the  majestic  forests  of  green- 
topped  hemlock  and  pine,  the  crimson  heralds  of  the  coming 
god  of  day  began  to  kindle  their  resplendent  fires.  I  stood 
for  an  hour  upon  the  deck,  motionless  and  entranced,  at  the 
marvelous  glory  of  the  scenic  solitude.  The  waters,  the  sky, 
the  forests,  illimitable  in  all,  made  me  a  worshiper  of  God 
and  his  universe,  though  I  marred  not  my  holy  devotion  with 
outward  sign.  If  this  is  "infidelity,"  let  the  votaries  in 
temples  made  by  hands  excommunicate  me  without  benefit  of 
clergy !  I  have  learned  to  stand  most  anything,  for  my 
unworthy  life  has  been  at  warfare  with  the  most  sacred 
formulas  that  have  become  established  in  the  minds  of  men. 

About  9  o'clock  we  reached  Grand  Haven,  a  town  of  over 
two  thousand  inhabitants.  It  owes  its  existence  and  pros 
perity  to  its  lumber  trade,  and  around  and  about  it  are  thirty 
steam  saw  mills,  going  night  and  day.  The  lake,  here,  is  a 


MY   NEW    HOME   IN   NORTHERN    MICHIGAN.  25 

little  over  ninety  miles  wide,  in  a  direct  line  to  Milwaukee, 
and  we  made  the  distance  in  about  nine  hours. 

I  soon  took  the  cars  to  Muskegon,  on  my  way  north  to  my 
new  home.  The  distance  to  Muskegon  is  fifteen  miles,  and 
we  made  it  in  sixty-five  minutes,  the  new  track  being  in 
unusually  good  condition,  and  no  one  stoppage  taking  up 
more  than  fifteen  minutes  to  let  off  a  passenger  !  The  last 
census  gave  Muskegon  a  population  of  six  thousand  and  two, 
and  yet  the  blackened  stumps  of  the  recent  wilderness  still 
stand  thickly  in  her  principal  streets !  Her  saw  mills  are 
her  only  source  of  prosperity. 

Here  I  took  another  railroad  for  White  Hall,  a  town  of 
eight  hundred  people,  eighteen  miles  distant  from  Muskegon. 
The  speed  on  this  road  astonished  me,  notwithstanding  I  had 
made  one  trip  in  my  life  on  the  Freehold  and  Farmingdale 
road,  in  my  once-loved  State  of  New  Jersey.  By  fastening 
the  vision  firmly  upon  a  tree,  you  could  satisfy  yourself  that 
the  train  was  in  motion  ! 

At  the  end  of  the  first  half  hour  I  became  alarmed,  and  sug 
gested  to  the  conductor — a  gentleman  in  very  thin  legs  and 
astonishingly  large  feet — that  he  reverse  the  cow-catcher  to 
the  rear  of  the  train,  for  fear  that  a  drove  of  cattle,  that 
started  from  Muskegon  a  few  minutes  after  we  did,  might 
run  into  us.  The  conductor  looked  me  intently  in  the  eye 
for  a  few  seconds,  with  a  gleam  of  pity  in  his  face,  and  passed 
on  with  never  a  word.  He  was  followed  by  a  boy  peddling 
prize  candy  packages  to  the  credulous  passengers.  Taking  it 
for  granted  that  the  lad  was  the  inevitable  newsboy  of  all 
passenger  trains,  and  forgetting  for  an  instant  my  change  of 
place  and  circumstances,  I  requested  him  to  bring  me  the 
New  York  Tribune.  The  boy  started,  slightly  changed  color, 
and  responded  with — 

"  The  what  ?" 


26  MY   NEW    HOME    IN    NORTHERN    MICHIGAN. 

"  The  New  York  Tribune." 

The  lad  drew  a  long  breath  and  slid  past  inc.  Two  seats 
to  the  rear  he  met  the  conductor,  and  I  heard  him  whisper  to 
that  functionary : 

"That  old  feller  over  thar's  crazy;  he  axed  me  for  a  New 
York  Trombone  /" 

The  conductor  then  recited  to  the  astonished  lad  my  sug 
gestion  about  the  cow-catcher,  and  after  that  the  twain  never 
passed  me  without  a  scrutinizing  look,  in  which  alarm  was 
blended  with  commiseration. 

"White  Hall  found  me  at  the  end  of  all  railroad  connection 
with  Northern  Michigan.  The  region  beyond  is  an  almost 
unbroken  extent  of  primeval  wilderness  for  three  hundred 
miles. 

White  Hall  is  upon  an  elevated  plain,  and  the  situation  is 
a  truly  pretty  one.  Like  all  western  towns,  it  is  laid  out  to 
limitless  expansion.  The  founders  of  these  embryo  cities 
seem  to  contemplate  the  no  distant  day  when  their  now  villages 
will  rival  New  York  and  Philadelphia  in  population  and 
wealth.  Muskegon  takes  in  many  square  miles,  and  the  lots 
in  its  only  business  street  are  held  at  §175  per  foot.  And  yet, 
in  less  than  ten  years  from  now,  the  valuable  timber  of  this 
region  will  have  all  disappeared,  and  the  decay  of  the  town 
will  then  be  as  swift  as  its  incidental  prosperity. 

The  contrast  between  the  lake  shores  of  Wisconsin  and 
Michigan  are  very  striking.  From  Chicago  to  Milwaukee, 
eighty-five  miles  by  railroad,  are  spread  numerous  beautiful 
villages,  handsomely  built  and  adorned,  and  showing  all  the 
comforts  of  Eastern  civilization.  The  intervals  are  filled 
up  with  finely  cultivated  farms,  with  large  and  comfortable 
houses  and  barns.  You  cross  the  lake  to  Michigan,  and  it 
seems  like  stepping  from  civil  into  savage  existence.  The 
towns  are  simply  lumber  depots,  without  agricultural  in- 


MY   NEW   HOME   IN   NORTHERN   MICHIGAN.  27 

terests.  The  roads  from  town  to  town  are  only  avenues  forced 
through  forests  of  unbroken  solitude,  with  here  and  there  the 
log  huts  of  lumbermen,  but  no  signs  of  agriculture  larger 
than  a  patch  for  potatoes,  or  for  corn  sufficient  to  fatten  the 
solitary  pig  of  the  wild  settler.  And  yet  Michigan  is  an  old 
State,  while  Wisconsin  but  sprang  into  existence  yesterday. 
The  valuable  lumber  lands  of  Northern  Michigan  have  held 
her  back  in  the  race  of  Western  progression.  Speculators 
have  monopolized  these,  and  labor  has  been  diverted  from  the 
soil  to  the  felling  of  trees  and  the  sawing  of  logs.  The  few 
have  thus  become  rich,  and  the  many  are  the  slaves  of  a 
system  of  labor  that  promises  no  benefits  in  the  future. 

At  White  Hall  I  hired  a  man  for  eight  dollars  to  take  me 
to  my  destination,  twenty-two  miles  distant.  We  at  once 
plunged  into  the  depths  of  the  hemlocks,  whose  dense  growth 
and  thick  green  boughs  almost  shut  out  the  light  of  day. 
Not  a  bird,  nor  an  animal,  biped  or  quadruped,  greeted  our 
vision  for  the  first  eighteen  miles.  Then  followed  at  intervals 
little  clearings  of  from  one  to  five  acres,  and  the  axe  of  the 
new  settler  resounded  from  the  gloomy  recesses  of  the  forests 
in  every  direction.  We  had  now  entered  the  southern  rim  of 
the  promising  "  fruit  belt"  of  Northern  Michigan,  and  the 
land  of  "  great  expectations"  in  the  immediate  future.  About 
every  mile  opened  to  our  view  a  little  peach  orchard  among 
the  blackened  stumps,  the  trees  of  which  had  just  been  set 
out,  and  ground  was  being  prepared  for  others  as  fast  as  the 
axe  could  dispossess  the  old  forest  trees  of  their  freehold,  for 
the  benefit  of  the  new  delicate  exotic. 

And  now  from  the  lofty,  broad  and  level  bluff  of  the 
"  Claybanks,"  the  mighty  lake  breaks  upon  my  vision,  and 
its  green,  limpid  waters  seem  rolled  out  to  immensity.  A 
sudden  turn  in  the  woods,  and  the  majestic  inland  ocean  is 
again  eclipsed  from  view,  but  its  melancholy  moanings  still 


28  MY    XEW    HOME    IX    NORTHERN    MICHIGAN. 

touch  the  heart  and  the  understanding  with  a  pleasing  sad 
ness.  At  noon  the  last  mile  was  overcome,  and  on  ascending 
a  high  elevation,  a  clearing  of  forty  acres,  encircled  by  mighty 
hemlocks  of  the  growth  of  centuries,  was  presented  to  my 
gaze,  and  in  the  midst  thereof  stood  the  little  log  cabin  of 
<l  My  Xew  Home  in  Northern  Michigan."  Johnny  and  little 
Alice  stood  at  the  door,  and,  with  the  mutual  exclamation  of 
<f  Oh  !  here's  Pop,"  ran  out  to  greet  me. 

I  found  my  domestic  fortress  in  these  inhospitable  wilds  to 
be  a  cabin  of  decayed  and  crumbling  logs,  upon  whose  roof, 
from  the  outside,  I  could  "  lay  hands  "  without  theological 
authority.  But  my  wife,  who  is  an  extravagant  and  preten 
tious  woman,  had,  "  unbeknownst "  to  me,  and  without 
marital  authority  from  the  party  on  the  other  part,  added  a 
§50  addition  to  the  north  side  of  our  ancient  and  time- 
honored  domicil.  This  little  exhibition  of  wifely  pride  and 
womanly  vanity  has  probably  blighted  my  political  aspira 
tions  forever  and  a  day.  The  less  favored  settlers  have 
booked  me  in  their  memories  as  a  "rustikrat"  invader  upon 
their  simple  tastes  and  habits  !  I  came  here  with  visions  of 
a  future  seat  in  Congress ;  but  a  woman  has  let  Satan  into 
this  paradise  of  anticipatory  salary  grabbing! 

There  is  a  little  bit  of  romance  connected  with  this  cabin 
of  ours  that  will  interest  the  general  reader,  and  I  propose  to 
relate  it  right  here.  About  twenty  years  ago,  when  Chicago 
was  just  struggling  into  cityhood,  .there  resided  within  its 
comparatively  sinless  limits  a  young  man  named  John 

S .     This  young  man  had  fallen  in  love  with  a  young 

woman  of  the  vicinage,  whose  name  is  omitted  by  the  gossips 
of  this  legend  hereabouts,  and  so,  unfortunately,  cannot  be 
embalmed  in  the  immortality  of  this  volume.  For  conve 
nience  sake  we  will  call  her  Mary,  a  name  ever  sacred  in  the 
recollection  of  many  of  us.  Well,  in  due  time  Mary  accepted 


MY   NEW   HOME   IN    NORTHERN   MICHIGAN.  29 

the  overtures  of  her  impassioned  lover,  and  promised  to  join 
teams  with  him  in  the  burden  of  life.  But  even  when  the 
"  happy  day  "  was  but  a  few  weeks  in  the  future,  his  affianced 
met  a  more  attractively  bedizened  "  feller "  at  a  party,  who 
wore  "  store  clothes  "  of  the  latest  fashion,  gold  rings  upon 
his  fingers,  sang  such  affecting  love  songs  as  "Barbara  Allen/ 
"Lord  Lovell,"  &c.,  and  parted  his  bear-oiled  hair  in  the 
middle.  The  young  man  thus  endowed  by  art  and  nature 
laid  siege  to  the  heart  of  the  simple  country  girl,  and  the 
garrison,  after  a  feeble  resistance,  surrendered  at  discretion. 
In  short,  Mary  "  went  back  "  on  John,  and  was  soon  engaged 
to  his  rival.  The  blow  staggered  our  hero  beyond  recovery 
Like  Hamlet,  Prince  of  Dunkirk,  he  became  morose,  moody 
and  possessed  of  a  melancholy  that  bordered  close  upon 
insanity.  For  clays  he  walked  about 

"  With  his  doublet  all  unbrac'd : 
No  hat  upon  his  head ;  his  stockings  foul'd, 
Ungarter'd,  and  down-gyved  to  his  ankles ; 
Pale  as  his  shirt :  his  knees  knocking  each  other ; 
And  with  a  look  so  piteous  in  purport, 
As  if  he  had  been  loosed  out  of  hell, 
To  speak  of  horrors." 

Thus  torn  by  the  hopeless  pangs  of  betrayed  affection,  he 
wandered  one  day  down  to  the  estuary  of  the  great  lake,  just 
as  a  party  of  Indians,  having  disposed  of  the  furs  of  the 
winter's  trapping,  were  about  to  return  to  their  lodges  in  the 
upper  wilderness.  He  stepped  into  one  of  the  canoes  without 
a  word,  seated  himself  upon  a  pile  of  blankets,  and  bent  his 
head  in  moody  reflection  upon  his  knees.  The  two  chiefs  of 
the  red  men  held  a  brief  consultation  in  reference  to  the  silent 
intruder,  which  evidently  resulted  in  accepting  the  situation. 
In  a  few  minutes  the  elder  in  command  gave  a  signal  wave 
of  the  hand,  the  paddles  dipped  silently  into  the  waters,  and 


30  MY   NEW   HOME    IN    NORTHERN   MICHIGAN. 

the  fleet  shot  out  northward.  On  the  fifth  day  thereafter, 
several  stoppages  along  the  shore  having  been  made  to  shoot 
deer  and  broil  venison  steaks,  the  boats  reached.  Petite  Point 
an  Sauble,  one-half  mile  in  a  direct  line  from  the  cabin  in 
which  I  now  am  penning  this  little  episode  of  local  history. 
The  Indians,  about  thirty  in  number,  had  arrived  at  the 
landing  place  of  their  reservation,  and  at  once  began  to 
unload  the  proceeds  of  their  trading  expedition.  When  the 
last  package  was  removed,  the  leader  of  the  band  touched  our 
hero  upon  the  shoulder  and  motioned  him  to  shore.  He 
obeyed  without  a  word,  for  he  seemed  hopelessly  bewildered 
in  mind,  and  as  passive  as  a  child.  The  burdens  were  soon 
strapped  upon  the  backs  of  the  Indians,  the  chiefs  bearing 
their  share  with  their  followers,  and  the  procession,  in  single 
file,  marched  up  the  steep  sand  bank  that  still  borders  the 
dense  and  sunless  depths  of  pine  and  hemlock. 

A  march  of  twelve  miles  brought  the  party  to  the  lodges 
of  their  tribe,  on  the  spot  now  occupied  by  the  village  of 
Hart,  the  capital  of  this,  Oceana  county.  Our  hero  remained 
with  his  involuntary  captors  for  about  six  months,  during 
which  time,  by  his  skill  in  the  use  of  the  few  tools  attainable, 
he  constructed  a  new  council  chamber  for  the  tribe,  and  a 
number  of  cabins  for  the  chief  men,  of  wonderful  design  and 
workmanship.  At  the  end  of  this  time  he  signified  his 
intended  departure.  The  tribe,  (the  remnant  of  the  old  and 
warlike  Chippawas,  and  numbering  about  eighteen  hundred 
souls),  remonstrated  in  vain  against  this  resolution.  The 
chief,  Big  Bone,  even  offered  our  hero  his  beautiful  daughter 
to  wife,  but  the  temptation  fell  upon  unheeding  ears.  John 
came  into  the  wilderness  to  get  rid  forever  of  the  presence  of 
the  white  woman,  and  the  red  one  was  not  likely  to  win 
him  from  his  general  abhorrence  of  the  sex.  A  wife  !  Xo, 
none  for  John !  He  was  not  to  be  Chicagoed  a  second 


MY    NEW    HOME    IN    NORTHERN    MICHIGAN.  31 

time.  The  forest  fawn  of  the  lodge  of  Big  Bone,  whose  feet 
were  flat  and  broad  upon  the  mountains,  and  in  whose  nose 
glittered  the  bone  of  the  lake  trout,  plied  her  native  arts  in 
vain  upon  the  petrified  affections  of  our  hero  ! 

It  was  while  the  dogwood  was  yet  in  its  second  blossom, 
and  the  leaves  on  the  maple  had  begun  to  crimson  at  the 

touch  of  the  early  frost,  that  John  S strapped  his 

blankets  upon  his  back,  shouldered  his  rifle,  belted  his  axe 
about  him,  and,  followed  by  the  wails  and  supplications  of 
these  simple  children  of  nature,  struck  out  with  long  strides 
into  the  silence  of  the  surrounding  forests.  He  took  the 
trail  that  led  to  Little  Point  Sauble,  his  landing  point  six 
months  before.  The  sun,  enveloped  in  his  evening  robes  of 
gold  and  scarlet,  with  the  encircling  soft  and  fleecy  clouds  at 
a  respectable  distance  from  his  more  dazzling  glory,  was  half 
hidden  in  the  waters  of  the  mighty  lake,  when  our  hero 
reached  the  rounded  eminence  destined  to  be  so  long  his 
future  home.  He  leaned  his  rifle  against  a  huge  pine  of  four 
centuries'  growth,  the  sturdy  stump  of  which  still  remains  in 
the  "  clearing,'7  three  paces  from  my  dingy  window,  mocking 
decay  with  its  resinous  roots.  He  next  proceeded  to  loose  his 
axe,  and  commenced  lopping  branches  from  a  recently  up 
rooted  hemlock.  Of  these  he  had  soon  formed  a  sufficient 
shelter  for  the  night.  He  then  made  a  healthy  supper  upon 
cold  venison  and  parched  corn,  and  laid  clown  to  a  sleep  that 
but  few  of  the  rich  and  great  are  capable  of  enjoying. 

The  sun,  in  russet  mantle  clad,  had  just  begun  climbing 
the  heights  of  yon  high  eastern  hill — [Shakapeare] — when 
our  hero  awoke.  He  offered  up  the  first  prayer  probably 
ever  supplicated  to  God  in  this  unbroken  wild,  and  then  pro 
ceeded  to  the  new  duties  of  life.  Day  after  day  he  cut  down 
the  smaller  trees,  and  fashioned  them  into  the  requisite  shape 
for  his  proposed  dwelling.  The  half  dozen  lumbermen  then 


32  MY    NEW    HOME    IN    NORTHERN    MICHIGAN. 

in  this  region  gathered  together  to  assist  him  at  the  "  raising," 

and  before  the  storms  of  November  set  in,  John   S 

found  himself  housed  in  a  comfortable  cabin,  built  by  the 
labor  of  his  own  hands,  not  a  stick  or  a  nail  of  which  cried 
out  against  the  oppression  or  injustice  of  its  founder.  How 
many  of  your  eastern  "  West  End  "  nabobs,  in  their  heavily- 
carpeted  and  gilded  palaces,  can  show  as  clear  a  title  to 
humanity  and  Heaven  as  this?  Don't  all  speak  at  once. 
Lying  is  an  abomination  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord ! 

And  here,  for  nineteen  years,  lived  honest  John  S , 

at  peace  with  his  own  conscience  and  his  God.  In  due  course 
of  time,  with  hard  labor  at  the  saw-mills,  which  soon  began 
to  appear  along  the  lake  shore,  he  was  enabled  to  purchase 
his  forty  acres,  paying  for  the  same  the  sum  of  $50.  Of  this 
he  had  ten  acres  cleared,  a  small  peach  and  apple  orchard 
set  out  and  in  bearing,  everything  around  him  lovely,  and 
he  himself,  but  for  one  corroding  memory,  a  happy  and  con 
tented  man. 

Just  about  one  year  ago,  a  change  came  o'er  the  spirit  of 
our  hero.  A  rustic  ball  was  held  on  the  22d  of  February  at 
the  "  Point,"  now  a  thriving  settlement  of  four  cabins  and 
one  l(  store."  John  was  persuaded  to  attend.  He  entered 
the  charmed  circle  of  dancers  with  all  the  shy  timidity  of  a 
youthful  novice  in  the  ways  of  civilization.  When  at  last 
he  lifted  up  his  eyes,  in  the  courage  of  increasing  confidence, 
he  felt  himself  entranced  by  a  vision  they  encountered. 
There,  fair,  fat,  and  forty,  but  as  pale  as  the  linen  that 
encircled  her  throat,  with  gaze  fixed  steadily  upon  his  face — 
like  one  who  has  eyes,  yet  sees  not — stood  the  beloved  of  his 
early  manhood ! 

I  am  not  a  novelist,  nor  a  man  of  imagination,  but  rather 
a  sturdy  delver  in  facts.  Therefore,  I  propose  to  finish 
this  true  history  without  garnish  or  the  gloss  of  improbable 


MY   NEW   HOME   IX   NORTHERN   MICHIGAN.  33 

romance.  As  soon  as  his  betrothed  could  recover  sufficient 
self-possession  for  the  effort,  she  crossed  the  room  to  her  long- 
lost  lover,  took  his  hard  yet  trembling  hand  in  her  own,  bent 
her  head  upon  his  bosom,  and  sobbed  like  an  unhappy  child. 
Of  course,  the  wondering  rustics  were  surprised  at  the  strange 
scene,  but  had  too  much  native  delicacy  of  feeling  to  smile 
or  giggle  at  that  which  they  instinctively  felt  was  sacred 
from  vulgar  comment  and  intrusion. 

The  explanation  which  finally  followed  elucidated  the  fol 
lowing  facts :  Mary,  in  expressing  a  preference  for  the 
"  store  clothes  feller,"  and  permitting  it  to  be  hinted  among 
her  associates  that  she  was  engaged  to  be  married  to  him,  had 
only  indulged  in  one  of  those  arts  of  coquetry  with  which 
so  many  young  women  foolishly  try  to  test  the  devotion  of 
the  one  they  truly  love.  The  sudden  disappearance  of  her 
lover  had  awakened  her  to  the  wickedness  of  her  conduct, 
and  she  had  known  but  transient  gleams  of  happiness  since. 
A  sister  of  hers  had  married  one  of  a  company  of  mill 
owners  at  the  Point,  and  she  was  on  a  visit  there  when  the 
strange  meeting  we  have  recorded  was  the  result.  The 
parties,  thus  strangely  re-united  after  twenty  years  of  silent 
absence,  were  married  within  the  week,  and  that's  the  way 
our  hero  came  to  sell  his  forty  acres,  with  the  "  improve 
ments,"  to  us,  for  the  sum  of  $725,  and  departed  with  his 
bride  to  their  old  home  in  Chicago.  Header  of  "  blighted 
affections,"  go  thou  and  do  likewise  ! 

Having  disposed  of  the  preliminary  journey  and  its  im 
mediate  incidents,  I  now  propose  to  convey  my  readers  to  the 
very  ground  of  my  new  home,  that  they  may  stand  with  me 
and  mine  and  take  a  view  of  the  strange  solitude  and  its  sur 
roundings.  The  location  is  called  Blackberry  Ridge,  from 
the  wonderful  spontaneous  growth  and  productiveness  of  that 
fruit  in  this  immediate  section.  Our  cabin  occupies  an  em- 


34  MY    NEW   HOME    IX    NORTHERN    MICHIGAN. 

inence  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet  above  the  level  of  Lake 
Michigan,  and  is  just  one-half  mile  in  a  direct  line  from  that 
wonderful  and  mysterious  body  of  water.  The  moan  of  its 
troubled  spirit  goeth  up  unceasingly  to  the  Infinite  through 
these  almost  unbroken  solitudes  ;  and  when  the  winds  are 
loosed  in  their  fury,  the  melancholy  dirge  can  be  heard  for 
many  miles  inland.  There  is  nothing  that  so  lulls  the  soul 
into  sympathy  with  eternity,  and  absolves  it  from  unholy 
skepticism,  as  the  voice  of  mighty  waters  in  the  waste  and 
desert  places.  In  this  glorious  wilderness,  by  the  shores  of 
this  lonely  inland  ocean,  not  even  the  fool  can  say  in  his 
heart,  "  There  is  no  God  !" 

The  "  clearing,"  on  the  western  verge  of  which  stands  our 
cabin,  comprises  about  one  hundred  and  twenty  acres.  Of 
this  we  have  forty  acres.  Two  other  cabins  are  visible,  di 
viding  with  ours  the  cleared  arena.  Then  we  travel  miles 
before  encountering  other  settlers.  My  nearest  neighbor? 
Charles  Sessions,  came  in  from  the  southern  part  of  Michigan 
one  year  ago.  Next  to  him  is  James  Gibbs,  postmaster,  on  a 
salary  of  §10  per  year,  and  a  Democrat.  He  came  in  as  a 
lumberman  about  a  dozen  years  ago,  felled  pine  trees  for  the 
.saw-mills  for  about  five  years,  and  when  these  were  pretty 
well  thinned  out,  Gibbs  pre-empted  a  homestead  of  about  one 
hundred  and  sixty  acres,  and  became  a  "  settler."  He  came 
from  Pennsylvania. 

The  timber  here  is  divided  into  what  is  called  "  hard  wood" 
and  "soft  wood."  The  former  consists  mainly  of  beech  and 
maple  ;  the  latter  of  pine  and  hemlock.  All  this  region,  for 
hundreds  of  miles,  has  been  surveyed  off  into  forty-acre  tracts. 
But  very  few  of  the  settlers  own  over  one  of  these  lots.  All 
the  land  here  was  originally  held  by  the  mill  proprietors, 
speculators  from  other  States,  who  bought  vast  tracts  for  the 
immense  pines  which  grew  thereon. 


MY    NEW   HOME   IN   NORTHERN   MICHIGAN.  35 

These  pine  forests  lined  the  eastern  shore  of  the  lake  for 
hundreds  of  miles,  and  hundreds  of  saw-mills  have  been  en 
gaged  in  their  destruction  for  the  past  ten  years.  The  waste 
has  been  fearful.  Between  here  and  Chicago,  a  distance  of 
two  hundred  miles,  but  few  pines  are  left  in  majestic  suprem 
acy,  the  lordlings  of  the  forest.  For  ten  years  the  "  best " 
have  been  annually  marked  by  the  spoilers,  hewn  down,  and 
cast  into  the  saw-mills.  But  the  huge  hemlocks  have  been 
passed  by  as  worthless  for  commercial  purposes.  The  new 
settler  alone  makes  war  upon  these.  They  are  yearly  cut 
clown  by  thousands,  left  to  dry  for  a  season,  and  then  the  re 
morseless  fire  is  let  loose  for  their  destruction.  I  have  seen 
acres  of  huge  trees,  most  of  them  measuring  from  ten  to 
fifteen  feet  in  girth,  set  on  fire  and  consumed  that  room  might 
be  made  for  the  plow.  There  is  a  hemlock  "  forty  "  joining 
our  location  on  the  south.  Seven  years  ago  it  was  traded  off 
for  an  old  horse,  worth  §20.  It  can  be  bought  to-day  for 
§300.  If  you  had  it  near  Trenton  it  would  be  worth  over 
$100,000.  Next  fall  men  will  be  engaged  in  cutting  it  down 
for  the  sole  purpose  of  giving  its  beautiful  lumber  to  the 
flames. 

There  is  a  singular  feature  in  these  forests  of  Northern 
Michigan.  One  forty-acre  tract  will  be  covered  exclusively 
with  hemlock.  With  hardly  a  perceptible  gradation,  the  ad 
joining  forty  will  be  entirely  of  beech  and  maple.  And  so  it 
will  alternate  for  miles.  The  "  soft "  timber  has  a  fertile  soil 
of  sandy  loam  ;  the  "  hard  "  has  an  admixture  of  clay  and 
lime,  and  is  considered  far  preferable  for  agricultural  purposes. 

On  the  west  and  south  our  cleared  circle  is  girded  by  hem 
lock  ;  on  the  east  and  west  the  hard  timber  mainly  prevails. 
The  contrast  is  very  striking.  The  white,  deep  snow  is  en 
circled  on  one  side  by  the  denuded  giants  of  the  forest ;  on 
the  other,  the  dense,  dark  limbs  of  the  evergreens  prevail 


36  MY    NEW    HOME   IN    NORTHERN    MICHIGAN. 

over  all  the  changes  of  the  seasons.  I  often  wander  forth  of 
a  moonlight  night — strangely  brilliant  in  this  latitude — 
entranced  by  the  magnitude  and  silence  of  these  forests.  At 
irregular  intervals,  amid  the  leafless  wilderness  of  oak  and 
beech  and  maple,  rises  up  the  majestic  pine,  straight  and 
limbless  for  an  hundred  feet,  crowned  with  a  feathery  helmet 
of  green,  and  towering  in  altitude  fully  one-third  above  all 
its  surroundings,  presenting  a  weird  and  ghost-like  appear 
ance  that  requires  a  more  capable  pen  than  mine  to  fully 
portray. 

The  density  of  these  northern  forests  is  surprising.  The 
trees  grow  to  an  immense  height,  and  so  closely  together  that 
the  sun  seldom  penetrates  their  foliage.  Standing  in  one  of 
these  clearings,  and  scanning  the  outlines  of  the  woods,  the 
great  trunks  seem  so  to  press  upon  each  other  that  one  would 
deem  it  difficult  for  a  cow  to  force  her  way  into  their  depths. 
From  these  clearings  one  rides  for  miles,  along  narrow  roads 
winding  among  the  trees,  and  filled  with  stumps,  without  any 
signs  of  life  or  civilization.  There  is  one  road  leading  north 
from  this  neighborhood,  that  can  be  traveled  sixty  miles 
without  meeting  a  human  habitation.  And  this  is  the  general 
face  of  the  country,  clear  across  this  secluded  State,  from  Lake 
Michigan  to  Lake  Huron,  and  three  hundred  miles  north  and 
northwest  to  Lake  Superior.  You  of  the  old  and  busy  east 
cannot  begin  to  appreciate  the  utter  isolation  and  loneliness  of 
this  vast  region,  or  that  sickness  of  heart  that,  despite  his 
philosophy,  will  at  times  overtake  the  voluntary  exile  from 
an  older  and  more  seductive  civilization. 

It  commenced  snowing  here  on  the  20th  of  November,  two 
days  after  my  arrival.  For  six  long  weeks  it  continued,  with 
almost  unbroken  violence,  and  in  all  that  period  the  sun  was 
not  visible  for  two  hours,  put  it  altogether.  Five  feet  of 
snow  fell  in  December,  and  violent  winds  raged  without  in- 


MY   NEW    HOME    IN    NORTHERN    MICHIGAN.  37 

termission.  On  the  16th  of  the  month  in  which  I  now  write 
(April)  I  came  near  perishing  in  a  snow  storm,  having  been 
overtaken  several  miles  from  my  cabin.  On  Sunday,  the 
21st,  another  fierce  snow  storm  was  hurled  from  the  heavens, 
and  heavy  icicles  were  formed  at  the  eaves.  One  hundred 
and  forty  days  of  unbroken  sleighing  have  here  marked  the 
terrible  season,  only  now  just  fairly  passing  away.  To-day, 
April  28th,  the  boys  are  plowing,  with  patches  of  snow  still 
upon  the  fields.  But  there  is  a  balm  in  the  glorious  atmos 
phere  ;  the  robin  and  the  blue-bird  are  happy  in  our  little 
orchard,  and  we  live  in  a  faith  that  tells  us  that  seed  time  and 
harvest  are  not  even  here  neglected  of  God. 

But  the  ordeal  to  me  this  winter  has  been  a  fearful  one. 
My  life  has  been  passed  in  cities  and  amid  the  tumult  of  men. 
For  six  months  have  I  been  imprisoned  from  all  these,  in  a 
cabin  in  the  wilderness,  without  one  single  link  holding  me 
to  life-long  associations.  To  step  out  from  the  rarely 
traveled  road  was  to  bury  myself  in  the  snow-drift.  There 
was  neither  store  nor  tavern  as  a  resort  in  which  to  relax  the 
terrible  monotony.  There  is  not  a  single  church  in  all  this 
broad  township  of  Benona,  and  not  one  drop  of  ameliorating 
whisky  can  be  obtained  for  even  "  medicinal'7  purposes.  The 
hardy  pioneers  here,  who  labor  so  hard  and  endure  so  many 
privations,  are,  with  one  exception,  temperance  men,  and 
mainly  members  of  the  Order  of  Good  Templars. 

What  I  have  carelessly  written  thus  far  has  been  at  idle 
intervals,  without  any  regard  to  the  harmony  of  connection, 
or  any  caution  against  repetition.  I  had  no  thought  of  book 
making  then,  and  since  that  weakness,  against  the  remon 
strance  of  judgment,  has  taken  bankrupt  possession  of  me, 
the  assets  must  remain  even  in  the  condition  in  which  they 
were  found. 

I  have  been  very  hard  at  work  for  a  month  past.     My  own 


38  MY    NEW   HOME    IX    XORTHERX   MICHIGAN. 

hands  have  cut,  planted,  and  covered  four  acres  of  Early 
Eose  potatoes,  finishing  the  unwonted  work  on  the  5th  day  of 
May.  We  have  fifty  bushels  more  to  put  into  the  generous 
.  virgin  soil  of  this  yet  untamed  wilderness,  and  the  ground 
will  be  ready  for  the  work  to-morrow.  Then  come  six  acres 
of  corn,  five  of  the  little  white  beans  of  commerce,  millet  for 
the  kine,  and  many  other  things  of  minor  import.  To-mor 
row  we  shall  finish  setting  out  our  thirty-acre  orchard,  con 
sisting  of  one  thousand  apple  trees,  three  thousand  peach 
trees,  five  hundred  quinces  and  plums,  together  with  pear, 
cherry,  &c.  We  have  been  three  weeks  at  this  job,  with  a 
half-dozen  men  to  assist  us.  It  will  be  a  glorious  sight  in 
a  few  years  from  now,  when  I  am  old  enough  to  die,  and  life 
has  become  a  burden — which  a  sensible  man  would  desire  to 
lay  aside  for  the  unknown  future  of  eternal  life  or  eternal 
death — to  see  this  thirty  acres  of  red  and  white  blossoms 
blooming  amid  thousands  of  blackened  stumps,  and  belted  by 
the  encircling  forest,  giving  its  odor  and  its  beauty  from  the 
hand  of  God  to  the  senses  of  man.  It  will  seem  strange  to 
most  of  my  readers,  this  tale  of  southern  fruit  promise,  away 
up  here  in  this  northern  latitude,  by  the  mighty  lakes,  where 
winter  rages  or  lingers  for  fully  one-half  the  year.  And  yet 
there  is  no  spot  on  all  this  broad  country  of  ours  where 
peaches,  apples,  plums,  strawberries,  raspberries,  and  their 
kind,  come  to  more  profuse  and  certain  perfection  than  right 
here  in  this  circumscribed  location  of  my  new  home  in  the 
West — Petite  Point  au  Sauble,  running  fifteen  miles  out  into 
the  dark,  restless,  and  treacherous  waters  of  Lake  Michigan. 
Five  miles  inland  these  fruits,  apples  excepted,  will  not  grow 
to  production.  It  is  the  milder  influence  of  the  immense 
body  of  water  by  which  we  arc  nearly  surrounded,  that 
makes  this  great  difference  of  temperature. 

My  little  cabin  window,  about  two  feet  square,  (blessed  be 


MY    NEW    HOME    IN    NORTHERN    MICHIGAN.  39 

God,  there  is  no  worldly  pride  here  to  fret  the  souls  of  women 
and  deplete  the  pockets  of  men !)  opens  upon  a  scene  of  sad 
and  solemn  beauty,  which  enlarges  the  Deity  within  us  to  an 
approximate  comprehension  of  the  Deity  beyond  all  visible 
externals.  The  moon  is  full-fledged,  and  in  this  thin,  pure 
atmosphere,  gives  out  a  resplendent  magnificence  upon  forest 
and  clearing  that  robs  the  sun  and  day  of  all  their  assumed 
superiority,  and  makes  the  dullest  observer  akin  to  the  spirits 
of  just  men  made  perfect.  O  ye  slothful  servitors  of  Chris 
tianity,  in  the  whitened  sepulchres  of  your  city  Sabbaths,  if 
ye  would  get  nearer  the  Heaven  you  offend  with  your  mock 
eries,  and  further  from  the  Hell  upon  which  your  feet  daily 
and  willfully  take  hold,  come  out  here  and  help  me  plant 
potatoes  in  the  daytime,  and  worship  the  living  and  the  true 
God  through  the  wrork  of  His  hands  as  reflected  in  the  moon 
light  of  these  vast  solitudes  !  It  is  so  easy  to  be  a  Christian 
here  that  there  hardly  seems  to  be  saving  merit  in  it.  If 
there  be  damnation  beyond  death,  the  city  pursuers  of  wealth 
will  mainly  agonize  under  the  inexorable  decree.  No  man 
can  be  persistently  wicked  in  the  pure  surroundings  of 
Mature. 

Seventeen  years  ago  the  first  white  man  attempted  a  busi 
ness  residence  on  the  lake  shore,  within  many  miles  of  my 
present  location.  Ira  Minard,  of  Illinois,  was  the  first  to 
take  advantage  of  the  great  timber  wealth  of  this  large 
county.  He  established  a  saw-mill  at  Stony  Creek,  an 
outlet  of  Stony  Lake  into  Lake  Michigan,  about  six  miles 
south  of  my  new  home.  A.  E.  Wheeler,  of  the  State  of 
New  York,  a  very  worthy  and  intelligent  gentleman,  was  the 
agent  of  Mr.  Minard  in  the  enterprise.  Roving  bands  of 
Indian  hunters  held  possession  of  the  country,  and  not  a 
cultivated  patch  of  ground  could  be  seen  from  Grand  Haven, 
one  hundred  miles  south,  to  Grand  Traverse,  one  hundred 


40  MY    NEW    HOME    IX    NORTHERN    MICHIGAN. 

and  fifty  miles  north.  The  second  winter  Mr.  Wheeler  was 
here  proved  a  very  severe  one,  and  the  solitary  Indian  trail 
that  led  to  the  trading  post  of  Grand  Haven  was  so  blocked 
with  snow  as  to  be  rendered  impassable.  Previous  to  this, 
the  men  at  the  mill  used  to  make  periodical  trips  to  Grand 
Haven  for  provisions,  returning  with  the  same  strapped 
upon  their  backs.  On  this  occasion  starvation  threatened 
the  occupants  of  the  two  cabins  at  the  creek.  As  the 
dilemma  became  more  serious,  a  trapper,  a  white  man  by  the 
name  of  Chapin,  volunteered  to  go  in  his  log  canoe  to  Grand 
Haven  for  supplies.  He  told  Mr.  Wheeler  that  if  he  were 
disposed  to  trust  him  with  the  necessary  funds,  he  was  willing 
to  encounter  the  risk  of  the  journey.  The  agreement  was  at 
once  made,  and  Chapin  started  on  his  perilous  trip.  The 
lake  was  ice-bound  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  its  shore, 
and  the  huge  waves  thundered  incessantly  against  this  jagged 
and  slippery  barrier.  Through  dangers  and  hardships  that 
can  scarcely  be  credited,  the  dauntless  hunter  fought  his  way 
alone  on  the  wintry  waters  to  his  destination.  He  procured 
a  barrel  of  beef,  one  of  pork,  together  with  a  quantity  of 
small  stores,  and  proceeded  on  his  return.  At  the  end  of 
two  days  of  fearful  labor  and  peril,  his  practiced  eye  dis 
cerned  a  storm  coming  up  from  out  of  the  west.  He  at  once 
turned  the  prow  of  his  canoe  against  the  ice-barrier  of  the 
beach,  and  cut  his  way  with  an  axe  to  the  shore.  He  rolled 
his  provisions  high  up  upon  the  sand  and  entered  the  forest. 
With  hemlock  boughs  he  constructed  a  sort  of  shelter  from 
the  terrible  storm  that  ensued,  and  rolling  himself  up  in 
blankets,  remained  completely  "  snowed  under/'  for  two  days 
and  nights.  At  the  end  of  this  period,  he  regained  his  boat, 
re-loaded  his  provisions,  backed  out  of  his  ice  canal,  and  in 
a  few  days  reached  Stony  Creek  in  safety,  but  in  a  state  of 
complete  exhaustion.  Mr.  Wheeler  told  out  into  the  horny 


MY   NEW   HOME   IN   NORTHERN   MICHIGAN.  41 

hand  of  the  unselfish  adventurer,  twenty-seven  hard  silver 
dollars,  as  a  reward  for  this  perilous  service.  The  hunter 
carefully  counted  and  re-counted  the  dazzling  coins,  dropped 
fifteen  of  them,  one  by  one,  slowly  into  his  untanned  deer 
skin  pouch,  and  forced  the  balance  back  upon  Mr.  Wheeler, 
absolutely  repulsing  all  the  efforts  of  that  gentleman  to 
induce  him  to  pocket  the  remainder.  Mr.  Chapin  now 
resides  at  Pentwater,  twelve  miles  north  of  here,  and  has  a 
comfortable  home.  He  is  a  hale,  hearty,  honest  old  man  of 
nearly  seventy  years,  with  no  stain  of  meanness  or  crime 
upon  his  conscience.  How  would  it  have  been  with  him  had 
he  lived  in  cities  ? 

The  success  of  Ira  Minard,  in  the  lumber  business,  soon 
attracted  the  attention  of  other  men  of  resources,  and  mills 
gradually  went  up  along  the  lake  shore,  at  intervals  of  about 
a  dozen  miles,  from  Muskegon  to  the  northern  head  of  the 
lake,  a  distance  of  nearly  three  hundred  miles.  The  land  was 
held  by  the  Government,  and  each  mill  company  purchased 
thousands  of  acres,  and  the  work  of  demolition  began  ;  the 
glorious  old  pine  forests,  as  old  as  the  Mosaic  creation,  were 
assailed,  night  and  day,  by  thousands  of  sturdy  axmen,  and 
scarcely  a  semblance  of  their  former  glory  remains  in  all  this 
region  round  about.  The  comparatively  worthless  hemlock, 
and  "hard  wood/7  have  alone  escaped  this  crusade  of  " civil 
ization."  Steam  mills  have  sprung  up  in  the  wilderness 
further  inland,  and  one  of  those  near  us  has  just  completed 
a  contract  to  saw  seventy-five  million  feet  of  white  and 
Norway  pine  for  a  company  in  Chicago.  Three  miles  east  of 
us,  Kearswell  &  Co.,  lumbermen  from  Maine,  hold  twenty- 
five  hundred  acres  of  pine  lands,  now  nearly  denuded  of 
marketable  timber,  by  seven  years  of  incessant  assaults  of 
hundreds  of  axmen.  Their  mill  is  a  very  large  one,  and 
chiefly  manufactures  what  is  here  called  "siding,"  but  in  New 

c 


42  MY   NEW   HOME    IN   NORTHERN   MICHIGAN. 

Jersey  is  known  as  "weather-boards."  The  amount  they 
annually  cut  up,  with  their  marvelous  machinery,  staggers 
belief.  A  huge  log  is  cast  into  the  terrible  maw  of  the  mill, 
and  in  a  few  seconds  the  "siding"  slides  down  an  inclined 
plane,  perfect  for  use.  It  is  mainly  shipped  to  Boston,  and 
commands  $70  per  thousand  feet.  I  wish  my  readers  could 
travel  through  this  wild  region  in  the  early  spring,  and  see 
for  themselves  the  millions  upon  millions  of  huge  logs  that 
have  been  cut  down  and  "skidded,"  ready  for  hauling  during 
the  winter,  and  they  would  think  that  the  whole  world  was 
being  supplied  with  lumber  from  the  forests  of  Northern 
Michigan. 

The  way  this  country  was  finally  opened  to  agricultural 
attempts  may  prove  of  interest  to  my  few  readers. 

The  land  was  originally  purchased  solely  for  its  pine. 
When  denuded  of  this,  it  was  considered  worthless.  The 
mill  companies  who  owned  it  were  from  other  States,  and  had 
jio  other  interest  in  Michigan  further  than  to  despoil  her 
grand  old  forests.  Ten  years  ago  the  land  thus  despoiled  was 
offered  for  twenty-five  cents  per  acre.  A  neighbor  of  mine, 
William  Worth,  an  emigrant  from  northern  New  York,  was 
offered  a  forty-acre  tract  adjoining  his  homestead,  if  he  would 
enter  thereon  and  cut  seventeen  cords  of  "  stave  bolts"  for 
the  owner.  These  stave  bolts  are  cut  from  oak  trees,  for  the 
manufacture  of  barrels.  Eight  trees  would  have  furnished 
the  required  number  of  bolts,  and  these  trees  could  have  been 
reached  in  any  fifty  square  yards  of  the  tract,  and  could  have 
been  got  out  in  ten  days.  But  the  offer  was  refused.  Another 
neighbor  bought  his  forty  acres  for  an  old  rifle,  a  powder 
horn,  and  a  pouch  of  buckshot. 

The  original  settlers  were  chiefly  the  lumbermen  who  came 
into  the  "  pineries"  for  winter  work.  A  few  of  these  each 
season  became  squatters,  and  reared  up  little  log  cabins.  They 


MY    NEW    HOME   IN    NORTHERN    MICHIGAN.  43 

worked  at  the  mills  in  the  summer  to  get  supplies  for  their 
families,  and  many  of  them  plied  the  ax  half  the  night  to  get 
a  little  "clearing"  around  the  cabin.  Then,  with  a  borrowed 
ox  from  a  more  prosperous  neighbor,  perhaps  many  miles 
away,  they  would  break  up  the  yielding,  sandy  soil,  and, 
amid  half-burned  logs  and  stumps,  plant  a  peck  of  potatoes, 
a  little  corn,  a  few  square  yards  of  garden,  and  trust  to 
Providence  for  the  result.  To  the  surprise  of  these  first  ex 
perimenters  upon  this  seemingly  worthless  soil,  the  crop 
proved  astonishingly  bountiful.  For  untold  thousands  of 
years,  Nature  had  been  at  work,  in  the  air,  in  the  snow,  in 
the  water,  in  combining  and  secreting  vivifying  material  in 
the  soil  for  the  coming  men,  who  were  to  make  the  wilder 
ness  blossom  like  the  rose,  and  the  waste  places  proclaim  the 
goodness  of  God  toward  all  that  trust  in  Him,  and  are  patient 
for  his  appearing.  The  field  right  here  before  my  eyes,  which 
has  been  cultivated  for  seven  years  without  return  of  manure, 
and  the  half  of  whose  surface  seems  taken  up  with  huge, 
charred  stumps,  last  year  produced  two  hundred  bushels  of 
potatoes  to  the  acre.  Yonder  hill  top  is  luxuriously  green 
with  its  first  clover,  while  the  southern  front  of  our  cabin 
holds  a  little  orchard  of  fifty  peach  trees,  which  were  four 
years  old  last  summer,  and  bowed  down  with  fruit  more 
luscious  than  any  that  ever  made  a  Jersey  man  smack  his  lips 
on  Jersey  soil.  Every  fence  corner,  every  stump,  every  open 
ing  in  the  woods  that  admits  the  sunlight  of  the  heavens,  is 
beautified  and  garnished  with  strawberries,  and  blackberries, 
and  raspberries,  and  their  kindred  fruits,  lavish  in  unpruned 
Xature  with  a  profusion  that  seems  like  sheer,  reckless 
wastefulness ;  for  neither  bird  nor  beast — and  last  and  least, 
man — can  diminish  by  their  necessities  or  gluttony  these 
healthy  luxuries  of  our  glorious  northern  summer  by  the 
mighty  waters  of  the  great  lake. 


44  MY    NEW    HOME    IX    NORTHERN    MICHIGAN. 

And  the  moral  wants  of  our  people  are  just  beginning  to 
be  met.  The  first  Sunday-school  ever  attempted  for  the 
neglected  little  children  of  the  settlers  was  organized  last 
Sunday.  And  who  do  you  suspect  is  the  superintendent  of 
this  Sunday-school  in  the  woods  ?  Tell  it  in  Gath,  publish 
it  in  the  streets  of  Askalon !  The  superintendent  is  none 
other  than  your  humble  servant !  How  will  that  do  for 
high  ? 

It  is  night  of  the  20th  of  June.  The  moon  is  up  in  a 
cloudless  sky,  and  the  weary  winds  have  retired  to  rest.  The 
solemn  religious  silence  of  the  surrounding  forests  is  as  pulse 
less  as  death,  save  where  the  whip-poor-will  utters  his  tireless 
and  monotonous  calls.  And  this  lonely  bird  of  the  night 
stirs  chords  within  the  dim  and  silent  wards  of  memory  that 
have  long  remained  untouched  in  the  reckless  past.  It  is 
now  nearly  fifty  years  since  I  last  heard  this  bird  of  darkness 
and  solitude  utter  its  harsh  commands  to  flagellate  the  offend 
ing  "  "Will,"  and  well  do  I  now  remember  the  mysterious  awe 
with  which  its  persistent  repetitions  filled  my  troubled  little 
heart.  The  scene  was  away  up  in  northern  New  Jersey,  and 
I  was  a  little  bare-foot  boy,  who  gave  his  fond  mother  a 
world  of  trouble  and  anxiety.  She  is  dead  now,  and  that  boy 
is  growing  old  and  weary-hearted,  far  from  her  grave. 

"  No  more, 
But  let  us  to  our  story  as  before." 

It  ought  to  be  of  interest  to  all  our  eastern  readers  to  hear 
how  a  wooded  new  country  is  brought  under  the  dominion  of 
agricultural  man.  The  first  settler  generally  comes  out  with 
an  ox  team,  wife,  and  children.  A  tent  is  stowed  in  the 
wagon,  together  with  axes,  rifles,  and  a  few  positively  indis 
pensable  cooking  utensils.  The  pioneers  travel  on,  days, 
weeks,  and  sometimes  months  before  a  location  is  selected. 


MY   NEW   HOME   IN    NORTHERN   MICHIGAN.  45 

Romance  has  no  place  in  all  their  thoughts.  Fertile  land 
and  convenient  water  are  the  paramount  considerations.  A 
spot  is  finally  selected,  and  simple  preparations  for  per 
manence  at  once  entered  upon.  The  tent  is  pitched,  and  the 
weary  wife  and  lesser  children  are  housed  in  their  new  home, 
in  most  cases  never  again  to  meet  with  those  with  whom  all 
their  years  had  been  passed.  The  man  and  his  stouter  sons 
now  select  trees  of  suitable  size,  and  for  the  first  time  since 
the  world  began  to  revolve  upon  its  axle-trees,  the  startled 
forest  is  awakend  by  the  ring  of  the  woodman's  ax.  When 
the  logs  are  properly  prepared,  the  oxen  drag  them  to  the 
selected  site,  and  by  patient  toil,  and  manly  and  uncomplain 
ing  privations,  a  rude  log  cabin — the  forerunner  possibly  of 
some  future  Chicago — lifts  its  slightly  majestic  proportions 
amid  its  wild  and  primitive  surroundings.  The  "  squatter  " 
having  thus  established  his  pre-emption  right,  goes  to  work 
with  a  will  upon  a  "  clearing."  An  athletic  and  tireless 
woodman  can  cut  down  an  acre  of  trees  in  ten  days.  When 
a  few  acres  have  been  so  far  subdued,  the  trees  are  left  to 
season  for  a  year,  that  they  may  yield  the  more  readily  to  the 
persuasive  influence  of  fire.  Abundance  of  all  sorts  of  game 
furnish  food  for  the  family  during  this  period,  a  little  patch 
of  corn,  cultivated  in  some  natural  opening  of  the  surrounding 
forests,  furnishing  the  needed  concomitant  of  bread. 

And  here  I  will  digress  a  moment  to  attack  a  popular 
error.  It  is  an  accepted  untruth  that  the  railroad  is  the  one 
grand  pioneer  of  civilization.  Estimable  old  fogy  of  a 
philosopher,  or  political  economist,  stand  up  and  be  corrected. 
This  little  two-cent  box  of  matches  now  upon  my  table  is 
worth  all  the  railroads  ever  built,  or  now  being  conceived,  in 
wresting  the  wilderness  from  the  dominion  of  solitude,  and 
the  silent  reign  of  nature,  and  the  grand  majesty  of  unin 
habited  space.  Fire,^rc,  is  the  monarch  of  civilization  whose 


46  MY   NEW    EOME   IN   NORTHERN    MICHIGAN. 

sceptre  sways  the  earth,  to  say  nothing  of  that  other  place 
that  is  theologically  located  a  yet  unmeasured  distance  beneath 
it.  Not  a  square  mile  of  wooded  land  in  all  the  fertile 
sections  of  the  great  west  and  northwest  could  have  been 
reclaimed  for  agricultural  purposes,  but  for  this  subtle 
element,  given  unto  us  by  the  all-provident  Creator.  Let 
Tom  Scott,  and  the  ghost  of  Jim  Fisk,  make  a  note  of  this. 

The  timber  thus  felled  is  called  a  "  slashing."  When  it  is 
sufficiently  seasoned,  fire  is  applied,  and  then  ensues  a  sight 
worth  all  the  election  bonfires  in  Xew  Jersey.  The  wind  is 
high,  and  the  sheeted  flame  leaps  and  rushes  like  hell  let 
loose  for  a  holiday.  Every  leaf,  every  twig,  every  limbr 
every  green  bush,  or  creeping  vine,  that  had  decked  or  fes 
tooned  the  dead  and  prostrate  monarchs  of  the  forest,  is 
lapped  up  by  the  hungry  fires  and  consumed  to  ashes.  With 
unsatiated  appetite,  or  rather  with  voracity  maddened  with 
what  it  has  fed  on,  the  whirlwind  of  fire  sweeps  over  the 
bounds  of  the  "  slashing,"  and  rushes  onward  into  the  sur 
rounding  wilderness.  The  startled  deer  breaks  from  hi& 
covert,  and  the  astonished  eagle  soars  screaming  upward  into 
the  heavens.  And  when  night  comes  down  upon  the  scene, 
it  is  only  to  add  to  the  magnificent  terror  that  seems  a  world 
on  fire.  Thousands  of  monstrous  pines  and  hemlocks,  long 
dead  from  the  weight  of  centuries,  but  still  erect  by  their  firm 
fastenings — the  skeletons  of  the  forest  cemetery — are  seized 
upon  by  the  insane  fury  of  the  fiery  whirlwind.  Up  their 
huge  trunks  it  crawls  and  leaps,  and  flaunts  its  lurid  banner ! 
It  seizes  upon  each  limb  that  seems  to  stretch  forth  its  help 
less  arms  imploringly.  And  now  look !  As  far  as  sight  can 
penetrate,  here  is  a  Saturnalia  worthy  of  all  the  demons  of 
destruction.  The  hoary  trunks  of  the  victims  are  all  a  mass 
of  glowing  fire,  and  every  limb  is  ablaze  with  a  brilliancy 
that  fascinates  the  beholder,  and  throws  an  indescribable 


MY   NEW   HOME   IN   NORTHERN   MICHIGAN.  47 

glory  by  reflection  upon  all  the  surrounding  green  leanness  of 
the  forest.  Hark  !  Booming  through  all  the  avenues  of  the 
intensified  senses,  comes  a  sound  like  muffled  thunder.  A 
huge  pine  has  yielded  to  fate,  and  falls  crashing  amid  its 
compeers.  Millions  of  sparks  fly  upward  from  the  fierce 
concussion,  and  soar  upon  the  wings  of  the  night  high  up 
into  the  firmament.  And  so,  boom  !  boom  !  crash  !  crash  ! 
all  through  the  night,  at  irregular  intervals,  the  terrible  con 
flict  rages  until  daylight  modifies  the  fearful  and  indescriba 
ble  grandeur.  I  have  tried  feebly  to  describe  what  my  own 
eyes  have  beheld  within  a  month  past.  I  admit  the  failure 
is  a  miserable  one,  and  am  willing  that  my  enemies  shall 
make  the  most  of  it. 

The  fire  of  the  "slashing"  having  fully  exhausted  the  more 
combustible  of  its  material,  the  hardest  of  the  work  now 
commences,  for  the  "  logging"  is  what  the  new  settler  most 
dreads.  The  huge  bodies  of  the  trees  lay  prostrate  amid  the 
ashy  ruins  and  blackened  stumps,  the  sole  survivors  of  the 
conflagration.  These  are  simply  charred  around  the  surface. 
The  saw  and  the  ax  are  now  pressed  into  the  service,  and 
made  to  perform  their  all-important  part  in  the  perfecting  of 
the  work.  The  trunks  are  cut  up  into  twelve  feet  lengths. 
The  log  chain  is  fastened  upon  one  end  of  these,  and  the 
weary  oxen  are  made  to  drag  them  to  the  place  of  execution. 
By  the  aid  of  levers  and  "skids"  these  are  piled  up  in 
pyramids,  frequently  ten  feet  high.  When  this  slow  and 
painfully  toilsome  process  is  completed,  a  favorable  wind  is 
the  opportunity  for  applying  the  torch.  The  numerous  heaps 
are  soon  in  a  bright  blaze,  affording  a  scene  of  grandeur  at 
night  only  inferior  to  the  destruction  of  the  lighter  material 
of  the  "  slashing."  The  lurid  fires  light  up  the  whole  heavens 
for  miles  around,  giving  an  idea  of  the  camp  fires  of  an  im 
mense  army.  This  work  continues  for  days.  Then  the 


48  MY   NEW   HOME   IX   NORTHERN    MICHIGAN. 

windows  of  heaven  are  opened,  and  the  dying  embers  of  the 
conflagration  are  slowly  extinguished.  The  plow  is  next 
called  upon  to  perform  its  important  functions.  Where  the 
roots  are  lightest  the  ground  is  imperfectly  broken  up,  and 
the  more  delicate  crops  are  sown  or  planted  in  little  patches. 
The  potatoes  are  placed  upon  the  unbroken  soil,  and  covered 
over  with  the  hoe.  The  product  of  these  is  truly  astonishing 
in  the  yielding  and  congenial  soil  of  northern  Michigan. 
From  planting  to  gathering  the  first  crop,  they  are  frequently 
left  to  struggle  for  growth,  (intended  by  the  care  of  man. 
And  yet  the  production  is  often  at  the  rate  of  one  hundred 
bushels  to  the  acre,  large,  mealy,  and  of  surpassing  flavor. 
I  have  been  in  twenty-five  States  of  the  Union,  but  never 
saw  such  fine  potatoes  as  are  grown  here  in  this  wilderness. 
God  is  good  in  some  way  to  all  manner  of  people. 

And  so,  from  year  to  year,  the  new  settler  adds  to  his 
acres,  until  whole  States  are  wrought  out  of  the  waste  places, 
and  a  sturdy  race  of  honest  and  patriotic  men  grow  up  to 
counterbalance  the  effeminacy  and  wickedness  of  the  old  cities 
of  the  east.  But  for  this,  ruin  and  decay  would  have  long 
since  marked  the  gradual  downfall  of  our  great  republic. 
There  is  to-day  more  of  the  leaven  of  national  salvation, 
right  here  by  the  lonely  shores  of  the  mighty  waters  of  Lake 
Michigan,  than  in  all  the  borders  of  all  the  cities  of  the  cor 
rupt  civilization  of  the  older  east.  The  wild  extent  of  our 
country  is  the  conservative  influence  that  will  save  it  from 
the  fate  of  the  ruined  dynasties  of  the  old  world  for  ages  yet 
to  come.  Poverty,  oppression,  and  murderous  discontent 
have,  in  the  yet  untrodden  fields  of  the  mighty  west,  a  way 
to  escape  from  enforced  revolution,  rapine,  and  bloodshed. 

-V  painful  incident  of  pioneer  life  happened  five  years  ago, 
right  here  in  this  immediate  neighborhood.  During  a  storm 
a  huge  tree  had  blown  down  in-ar  the  cabin  of  a  settler  from 


MY   NEW   HOME   IN   NORTHERN   MICHIGAN.  49 

Vermont.  The  next  morning  he  took  his  saw,  and  accom 
panied  by  a  little  son  and  daughter,  aged  respectively 
six  and  four  years,  went  forth  to  cut  up  the  tree,  which 
had  fallen  upon  his  crop  in  the  edge  of  the  clearing.  He 
had  sawed  through  the  first  cut,  about  twelve  feet  from  the 
large  space  of  earth  that  had  been  carried  up  with  the  roots, 
when  the  stump,  relieved  from  the  great  weight  of  the  body 
of  the  tree,  sprang  back  and  resumed  its  original  position. 
The  settler  worked  on  for  awhile,  and  then  returned  to  his 
cabin  for  his  oxen.  His  wife  met  him  with  a  careless  inquiry 
about  the  children.  The  man  replied  that  he  thought  that 
they  had  become  tired  of  playing  and  had  returned  home. 
The  mother  concluded  that  they  had  strayed  out  into  the 
dense  wood,  in  search  of  flowers  and  berries,  and  pursuit  at 
once  commenced.  This  was  kept  up  for  hours,  when  finally 
the  alarmed  parents  instituted  a  closer  search  by  the  fallen 
tree.  A  loud  shriek  from  the  distracted  mother  brought  the 
father  to  the  roots  of  the  tree.  And  there  they  saw  horrible 
evidence  of  the  fate  of  the  little  ones — the  edge  of  a  small 
apron  protruding  from  under  the  re-settled  stump. 

The  children  had  made  a  little  play-house  of  moss  and 
chips  in  the  cavity  caused  by  the  uprooting  of  the  tree,  and 
when  it  sprang  back  had  been  crushed  to  death.  The  parents 
still  reside  here,  and  the  mother  has  carefully  preserved  the 
little  torn  apron  of  her  baby  daughter,  and  the  little  straw 
hat  of  her  darling  boy,  together  with  the  withered  grasses 
and  wild  flowers  that  had  decked  their  play-house,  as  painful 
mementoes  of  their  sad  fate.  I  have  seen  them,,  and  am  not 
ashamed  to  admit  that  I  paid  unto  these  records  of  a  painful 
tragedy  the  tribute  of  sacred  tears. 

There  is  a  wonderful  fact  connected  with  the  Michigan 
side  of  the  great  lake,  that  points  to  the  wisdom  and  good 
ness  of  the  Creator,  in  a  manner  so  unmistakable,  that  it 


50  MY   NEW    HOME   IN"   NORTHERN   MICHIGAN. 

cannot  fail  to  strengthen  the  Christian  in  his  faith,  and  to 
weaken  the  skepticism  of  the  honest  and  intelligent  doubter. 

All  along  the  eastern  shore,  for  over  two  miles  inland,  are 
steep  and  high  sand-hills,  studded  with  a  stunted  growth 
of  pine  and  hemlock.  These  hills  have  been  thrown  up 
through  the  centuries  by  the  action  of  the  winds  and  waves 
of  the  lake,  and  being  of  more  recent  formation,  accounts  for 
the  weak  fertility  of  the  soil,  and  the  consequent  dwarfage  of 
the  forests. 

It  would  be  a  work  of  utter  impossibility  to  get  the  valuable 
timber  that  grows  beyond  this  belt,  to  the  waters  of  the  lake, 
over  the  sand-hills  intervening,  without  an  expenditure  so  enor 
mous  as  to  forbid  the  attempt  for  ages  yet  to  come,  or  until 
lumber  commanded  a  price  difficult  now  to  contemplate  as 
among  the  possibilities  of  the  future.  Under  this  state  of 
facts,  all  the  vast  region  of  which  I  have  been  writing  would 
be  useless  in  its  timber  for  the  necessities  of  the  civilized 
centres  in  which  it  now  finds  so  great  and  so  remunerative  a 
market. 

And  now  I  will  show  wherein  the  hand  of  God  is  seen,  in 
the  provision  which  so  happily  annuls  the  difficulty  I  have 
described. 

At  average  intervals  of  about  fifteen  miles,  all  along  our 
shore  of  the  lake,  little  inlets  enter  the  mainland,  generally 
from  one  hundred  to  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards  long,  and 
from  fifteen  to  thirty  yards  wide.  Then  their  waters  swell 
out  into  beautiful  little  lakes,  which  run  up  for  miles  into  the 
valuable  timber  lands,  and  the  most  cunning  engineer  could 
not  have  designed  these  more  skillfully  for  the  great  need  to 
which  they  minister.  These  subordinate  lakes  are  about  six 
miles  in  length,  by  two  miles  wide.  And  all  around  the  upper 
rim  of  this  natural  basin,  large  steam  saw  mills  have  been 
erected,  the  fuel  for  which  costs  nothing,  and  the  lumber  they 


MY   NEW   HOME   IN   NORTHERN   MICHIGAN.  51 

yearly  turn  out  is  bewilderingly  astonishing.  An  inlet,  run 
ning  from  ten  to  twenty  miles  still  farther  into  the  interior 
of  the  pine  forests,  empties  into  the  head  of  these  smaller 
lakes  I  have  attempted  to  describe.  So  you  see  that  when 
the  timber  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  mills  is  used  up, 
a  seemingly  inexhaustible  supply  remains  to  be  felled  and 
floated  down  from  a  long  distance  inland. 

The  entrance  from  the  great  lake  is  dredged  out  to  the 
proper  depth,  wharfed  up  on  either  side,  and  large  schooners 
are  thus  enabled  to  enter,  load,  and  depart  to  distant  markets 
with  their  cargoes. 

Additional  force  is  given  to  the  argument  that  Divine 
intelligence  designed  these  marvelous  conveniences  for  the 
benefit  of  man,  by  this  other  fact  which  I  now  introduce  for 
the  thoughtful  meditation  of  both  Christian  believer  and 
skeptical  materialist. 

On  the  opposite  side,  or  Wisconsin  shore,  one  hundred 
miles  across  from  us,  none  of  these  little  interior  lakes  exist. 
And  why?  Because  there  are  no  forests  of  merchantable 
timber  there  that  requires  them  for  a  highway  by  which  to  be 
floated  to  mill  and  market !  Reader,  are  not  these  links 
welded  into  the  perfect  chain  ? 

While  I  think  of  it,  it  will  be  well  here  to  introduce  an 
explanation  that  should  have  come  in  some  distance  back  in 
my  careless  and  irregular  description. 

Some  reader  will  think  it  strange,  if  my  story  of  the 
general  fertility  of  Northern  Michigan  be  of  a  verity,  and 
not  of  idle  exaggeration,  why  is  it  that  the  land  is  not  more 
rapidly  taken  up  by  emigration,  and  devoted  to  the  general 
purposes  of  agriculture  ?  Why  does  it  continue  almost  an 
unbroken  wilderness,  while  the  colder  and  more  inhospitable 
climates  of  Wisconsin  and  Minnesota  are  sought  by  the  great 
army  of  emigrants  ? 


52  MY   NEW   HOME    IN   NORTHERN   MICHIGAN. 

The  point  is  very  properly  made,  but  very  easily  removed. 
Of  course  the  agricultural  seeker  of  a  home  in  a  wild  coun 
try  is  very  limited  in  his  means,  and  depends  upon  imme 
diate  crops  for  sustenance.  It  takes  a  term  of  years  in 
Northern  Michigan  to  cut  down,  burn,  and  get  a  forty-acre 
tract  ready  for  production,  and  the  cost  per  acre  is  about 
§30,  exclusive  of  the  original  purchase.  And  then  those 
wretched  stumps  last  a  generation,  and  are  most  difficult  to 
work  among,  either  in  preparing  for  or  gathering  in  a 
crop. 

But  the  emigrant  can  cross  the  lake  into  the  prairie  states, 
enter  government  land  as  a  homestead,  or  other  lands  at  a 
light  purchase,  and  clap  the  plow  in  on  the  very  day  he 
becomes  the  owner.  Can't  you  "  see  it  ?  " 

To  give  my  readers  who  are  interested  in  things  apper 
taining  to  my  new  home  a  compact  idea  of  its  wild  isolation, 
I  cannot  do  better  than  to  state  that  it  takes  twenty-six 
counties  to  make  up  the  population  necessary  for  our  Con 
gressional  District,  covering  an  extent  of  territory  much 
larger  than  the  entire  State  of  New  Jersey,  running  clear 
up  to  Lake  Superior,  and  bending  around  in  a  tier  of  north 
western  counties  to  the  Wisconsin  line.  Thank  Heaven,  it 
prevents  any  candidate  from  "stumping"  it,  or  whiskying 
its  wild  red  and  white  voters  !  His  term  of  two  years  would 
be  out  before  he  could  get  through  the  district,  and  the 
"  back  pay "  would  be  all  stolen  before  his  "  grab  "  could 
come  in. 

There  still  remains  in  our  county  nearly  two  thousand 
Indians,  the  remnant  of  the  once  numerous  warlike  tribes 
that  held  all  the  Northwest  previous  to  the  inroads  of  civili 
zation.  They  live  on  a  reservation  of  two  townships  of  the 
most  beautiful  forest  land  in  all  Michigan.  It  is  covered  by 
a  growth  of  immense  trees,  mainly  beech  and  maple,  free 


MY  NEW  HOME  IN  NORTHERN  MICHIGAN.  53 

from  underbrush;  and  as  one  rides  through  it  he  cannot 
fail  to  become  absorbed  in  contemplation  of  the  magnifi 
cent  profusion  of  flowers  and  foliage,  so  grandly  displayed 
throughout  this  sylvan  solitude. 

These  Indians  are  as  good  and  peaceful  citizens  as  are  the 
white  settlers,  who  are  beginning  to  crowd  so  closely  upon 
them.  They  have  their  little  clearings  for  potatoes  and  corn, 
but  hunting  is  the  main  object  of  their  existence.  They 
adhere  to  their  old,  original  language,  though  the  most  of 
them  have  mastered  enough  of  the  English  for  the  ordi 
nary  purposes  of  intercourse  with  the  whites.  The  State 
prohibits,  under  severe  penalties,  the  sale  of  whisky  to  these 
people,  and  to  this  fact  alone  is  due  their  quiet  and  peaceable 
demeanor. 

But  woman  will  be  woman,  under  all  the  dispensations 
of  fate  and  circumstance ;  and  dress  without  comfort,  and 
adornment  without  taste,  mark  the  sex  wherever  a  myste 
rious  providence  suffers  them  to  exist.  The  squaws  of  our 
lake  region  spend  every  dime  they  can  get  for  three-cent 
finger  rings,  cheap,  flashy  ribbons,  false  hair  not  half  so 
beautiful  as  their  own,  and  hump  the  small  of  their  backs 
as  deformedly  as  do  their  Christian  sisters  of  the  East.  In 
fact,  I  will  dare  the  assertion  that  I  have  seen  at  least  some 
red  maidens  here  in  the  woods  exhibit  a  disregard  of  taste 
in  their  attire  equal  to  that  of  a  New  Jersey  belle,  in  its 
monstrous  departure  from  the  true  line  of  female  develop 
ment  and  shapely  beauty.  This  may  be  doubted  by  most 
of  my  readers,  but  I  stand  ready  to  put  up  .my  money 
on  it. 

With  the  relation  of  a  single  incident  connected  with  the 
present  life  of  these  Indians,  I  close  this  very  hastily  and 
very  carelessly  written  sketch  of  "  My  New  Home  in  North 
ern  Michigan." 


54  MY   NEW   HOME   IN   NORTHERN   MICHIGAN. 

The  principal  chief  of  the  Ottawas  is  one  of  the  largest 
and  most  powerfully  formed  men  I  ever  looked  upon.  His 
native  name  I  have  forgotten,  but  it  is  hard  enough  of  pro 
nunciation  to  strangle  a  Dutchman.  He  is  designated  among 
the  white  settlers  as  Louie  General.  This  chief  had  a  favorite 
pony  of  great  speed,  and  his  brother-in-law  was  the  owner 
of  a  similar  animal.  Several  trials  had  taken  place  between 
the  two,  but  always  with  doubtful  or  unsatisfactory  results. 
At  last  a  day  was  fixed  for  a  final  contest,  which  the  tribe 
attended  in  a  body.  These  Indians  are  splendid  riders,  and 
racing  is  their  favorite  amusement. 

This  time  the  race  proved  decisive.  The  horse  of  the 
chief  won  the  victory  by  a  very  close  distance.  This  fact, 
and  the  vociferous  yells  which  greeted  the  result,  aroused 
all  the  vindictive  passions  of  the  defeated  Indian.  Instantly 
leaping  from  his  pony,  he  rushed  toward  the  horse  of  his 
brother-in-law,  drew  a  long  knife,  and  plunged  it  into  the 
bowels  of  the  panting  animal. 

There  was  a  pyramidal  log  pile  blazing  close  by.  The 
chief  gazed  a  moment  upon  his  favorite,  struggling  in  death, 
then  with  one  bound  he  reached  the  offender,  raised  him 
in  his  powerful  grasp  at  arms  length  above  his  head,  and 
dashed  him  upon  the  burning  pile !  The  top  log,  being 
nearly  burned  through,  broke  asunder,  and  the  victim  dis 
appeared  in  an  instant  within  the  cavernous  furnace ! 

For  this  deed  of  horror,  Louie  General  was  tried,  con 
victed,  and  sentenced  for  five  years  to  the  State  Prison  at 
Jackson. 

He  had  been  incarcerated  but  a  short  time,  when  a  con 
spiracy  among  the  more  desperate  of  the  prisoners  came  to 
a  head,  in  an  attempt  to  overpower  the  guard  and  escape. 
This  would  have  proved  successful,  but  for  the  daring 
courage,  and  herculean  strength  of  the  imprisoned  chief. 


MY   NEW   HOME   IN   NORTHERN   MICHIGAN.  55 

He  threw  his  huge  proportions  in  the  only  avenue  of  escape, 
and  knocked  down  every  convict  who  attempted  the  passage. 
Assistance  soon  came,  and  the  effort  was  frustrated,  only  two 
prisoners  having  succeeded  in  making  their  escape. 

Louie  General  was  at  once  pardoned  by  the  governor,  and 
to-day  is  with  his  people. 


HOW  THE  "OLD  SETTLER"  SETTLED  MY 
POTATO  BUGS. 


IKXEW  him  by  his  swinging  stride  and  his  long  rifle,  the 
moment  he  emerged  from  the  old  Indian  trail  into  the 
clearing. 

It  was  the  Old  Settler.  He  came  out  from  Northern 
Indiana  twenty  years  before,  as  one  of  the  first  lumber  camps 
formed  in  these  wilds  by  the  Chicago  Saw  Mill  Company. 
He  managed,  at  the  end  of  two  years'  service  in  the  camps, 
to  get  forty  acres  of  land  for  about  the  same  number  of  dol 
lars,  put  up  a  little  log  cabin  with  his  own  hands,  cleared  off 
ten  acres,  and  settled  down  in  contented  independence. 

The  honesty  of  this  Old  Settler  would  bear  a  heavy  dis 
count  in  any  mart  outside  of  Wall  street.  But  there  he 
would  be  sure  of  sympathetic  and  congenial  natures.  He  is 
a  Jay  Gould,  circumscribed  in  his  genius  by  lack  of  material 
for  extended  operations.  The  first  spring  I  came  into  the 
settlement,  he  sold  me  ten  bushels  of  seed  potatoes,  at  double 
the  market  price,  every  one  of  which  was  frozen  to  the  hard 
est  possible  solidity.  When  a  week  later  I  discovered  this 
fact,  and  suggested  that  he  make  some  sort  of  reparation,  he 
indignantly  remarked : 

"  Why,  stranger,  do  you  take  me  for  a  durn'd  fool !  I'm  a 
poor  man.  You  wear  store  clothes  and  keep  bosses, and  they 
say  hereabouts  that  you  are  lousy  with  greenbacks.  But  you 
musn't  go  for  to  try  to  put  on  style  among  honest  folks  here 
in  the  woods.  Pay  you  back  that  money  !  Not  if  this  indi- 


HOW  THE  OLD  SETTLER  SETTLED  MY  POTATO  BUGS.   57 

vidual  knows  hisself.  Who  can  best  afford  to  lose  them 
'taters,  me  or  you  ?  When  I  was  up  on  the  Manistee  last 
winter,  a  logging  I  licked  a  feller  about  your  size,  with  one 
hand  tied  behind  me.7' 

The  logic  of  these  remarks  would  not  bear  close  criticism, 
but  the  huge  fist  which  the  speaker  swung  around,  in  rather 
careless  proximity  to  my  head,  by  way  of  emphasis,  had  a 
mollifying  effect  upon  my  anger.  I  assured  him  I  was 
only  joking.  The  Old  Settler  magnanimously  accepted  the 
apology,  invited  himself  to  dinner,  borrowed  three  dollars  to 
pay  his  taxes,  and  struck  out  again  into  the  forest.  And  now 
he  visits  me  regularly,  and  in  the  absence  of  all  neighborly 
companionship,  he  is  at  times  rather  welcome  than  otherwise. 

When  the  snows  had  all  melted  last  Spring,  and  had 
poured  the  last  of  their  tributes  into  the  treasury  of  the  great 
lake,  and  the  genial  days  came  out  from  the  shadow  of  the 
long,  fierce  winter,  I  set  about  my  innocent  agricultural 
labors. 

Albeit  of  an  indolent  organization,  and  a  dreamer  rather 
than  a  laborer  in  the  great  problem  of  life,  still  I  find 
myself,  in  my  new  mode  of  existence,  compelled  to  work  in 
self-defense.  There  is  neither  store,  church,  nor  tavern,  nor 
any  of  the  accessories  of  civilization  within  many  miles  of 
my  lowly  dwelling.  The  winds  sigh  mournfully  through 
the  forests ;  day  unto  day  and  night  unto  night  speaketh  a 
voiceless  language  of  the  past,  in  the  solemn  loneliness  of 
these  grand  old  woods.  The  sounds  of  labor  are  few  and  far 
between,  and  seem  but  the  muffled  echoes  of  the  general 
silence. 

To  avoid  the  saddening  thoughts  of  death  and  eternity, 
which  such  surroundings  force  upon  the  meditations  of  one 
accustomed  all  his  life  to  the  remorseless  din  and  struggles  of 
great  cities,  I  went  to  work  like  another  Abel,  who  was  a 

D 


58   HOW  THE  OLD  SETTLER  SETTLED  MY  POTATO  BUGS. 

tiller  of  the  ground  long  before  the  ornamental  potato  bug 
was  mercifully  invented.  I  prepared  an  acre  for  early  rose, 
cut,  planted,  and  covered  six  bushels  thereon,  and  all  with 
these  soft  hands  of  mine.  The  very  first  forenoon  of  this 
work  satisfied  me  that  I  was  the  discoverer  of  a  valuable 
acquisition  to  medical  science.  There  is  some  secreted  virtue 
in  a  Northern  Michigan  hoe  handle,  that  raises  blisters  in  a 
few  minutes,  as  large  as  life,  and  twice  as  natural. 

Rapacious  quack,  I  have  patented  the  discovery.  The 
subscriber  is  too  smart  a  Jersey  Yankee  to  make  public  "  a 
great  blessing  to  mankind,"  without  the  preliminary  caution 
of  securing  the  profits. 

Well,  to  make  a  short  story  long,  my  potatoes  grew  up  out 
of  the  furrow,  drank  in  the  air  and  the  sunshine,  and  I  was 
happy  in  the  consciousness  of  rewarded  skill  and  industry. 
No  fond  mother  ever  so  watched  over  the  dawning  beauty  of 
her  first-born,  as  did  your  servant,  beloved  reader,  over  the 
developed  glory  of  them  'taters !  Alas,  for  the  cruel  sequel ! 
One  day 

The  bugs  they  came  down,  like  wolves  on  the  fold, 
And  eat  of  my  vines  all  their  stomachs  could  hold  ! 

It  was  at  this  fatal  juncture  that  my  evil  genius,  the  Old 
Settler,  emerged  from  the  forest,  and  came  upon  the  scene, 
as  related  at  the  opening  of  this  history.  Coming  up  to 
where  I  was  sitting  moodily  upon  a  stump,  feeling  like 
Marias  at  the  ruins  of  Carthage,  only  more  so,  his  keen  eye 
took  in  the  situation  at  once,  but  his  diplomatic  caution 
suggested  the  disguise  of  an  inquiry  : 

"  What  mout  the  matter  be  ?" 

"  Look  at  what  was,  only  yesterday,  the  most  beautiful 
potato  patch  in  the  settlement.  In  forty-eight  hours  from 
this  it  will  be  a  sandy,  herbless  waste." 


HOW  THE  OLD  SETTLER  SETTLED  MY  POTATO  BUGS.   59 

"  Bugs,  eh  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Is  that  all  ?  Why,  stranger,  you  can  kill  every  blasted 
critter  of  'era,  sure  as  shootin',  before  9  o'clock  to-morrow 
mornin'." 

In  the  hour  of  despondency,  the  feeblest  support  gives 
hope  a  ray  of  confidence.  I  grasped  with  gratitude  the  hand 
of  the  Old  Settler,  and  eagerly  inquired  how  the  work  of 
extermination  could  be  effected. 

"Mister,"  said  he,  "you're  a  new  beginner,  and  don't 
know  much  about  farmin'.  But  you're  a  clever  feller,  as  far 
as  I've  seen,  and  I'm  willin'  to  give  you  my  'sperience.  Go 
and  get  a  bushel  of  fresh  lime,  what's  just  outen  the  kiln. 
Pound  it  up  as  fine  as  powder,  and  early  in  the  mornin', 
when  the  dew  is  thick,  dust  them  are  vines  all  over,  and  by 
noon  there  won't  be  a  durn'd  live  'tater  bug  in  the  hull 
patch." 

With  a  gush  of  feeling  that  uprooted  all  my  previous  pre 
judices,  and  flushed  tearfully  in  my  eyes,  I  again  grasped  the 
hand  of  the  kindly  old  man,  with  a  mental  oath  of  eternal 
friendship;  hitched  up  "  Prince,"  and  drove  like  Jehu,  the 
son  of  none,  to  Stony  Creek,  eight  miles  distant ;  got  back  at 
dusk  with  the  lime,  and  worked  and  sweated  all  night  in 
reducing  it  to  powder.  I  stole  out  exultingly  in  the  early 
grey  of  the  morning,  and  gave  a  magnificent  dusting  to  the 
whole  patch  ! 

My  triumph  was  of  the  kind  supposed  to  be  loved  by  the 
gods,  for  it  died  young.  Even  as  I  waited  and  watched,  the 
dust  began  to  seethe  and  bubble,  and  a  smoke  steamed  up, 
and  the  vines  squirmed,  and  writhed,  and  soon  lay  prone 
upon  the  ground ! 

"  Fine  arternoon,"  exclaimed  the  Old  Settler,  as  he  strode 
into  the  patch  where  I  was  contemplating  the  ruins. 


60   HOW  THE  OLD  SETTLER  SETTLED  MY  POTATO  BUGS. 

I  looked  in  the  man's  face  sternly  for  a  full  minute,  expect 
ing  to  see  him  quail  in  the  consciousness  of  guilt,  in  full 
sight  of  the  injury  he  had  done  me.  But  the  steel  blue  of 
his  eye  remained  unclouded  with  shame,  as  he  observed,  in  a 
satisfied  tone : 

"Well,  stranger,  you  see  the  lime  has  cleared  the  kitchen. 
Bugs  all  dead,  I  b'lieve  ?" 

'•'  Yes,"  I  bitterly  rejoined,  "  and  vines,  too.  Did  you  know 
it  would  kill  the  vines  ?" 

"  Why,  of  course  I  know'd  it  would  kill  the  Waters.  Any 
durn'd  fool,  who  had  the  sense  he  was  born  with,  oughter  to 
know  that!  I>ut  then  look  at  the  satisfaction  of  earcumwentin' 
the  cussed  bugs!" 

I  here  tightened  my  grasp  upon  the  hoe  handle,  set  my 
teeth  hard,  and  breathed  determinedly.  But  a  spirit  of 
Christian  forbearance  came  in  time  to  save  me  from  the  con 
templated  violence.  I  thought  of  the  feller  he  had  licked 
up  on  the  Manistee,  and  grinned  horribly  a  ghastly  smile  as 
I  lifted  my  eight-dollar  beaver  from  my  head,  and  handed  it 
to  the  Old  Settler  with  a  bow,  and  the  exclamation  of — 

"  Take  my  hat !" 

To  my  surprise  and  consternation,  the  matter-of-fact  nature 
of  my  tormenter  seemed  to  take  the  offer  as  of  good  faith, 
and  as  a  reward  for  acceptable  service  rendered  !  He  stretched 
forth  his  long  muscular  arm,  and  before  I  could  withdraw 
the  offer,  he  had  it  safely  in  hand.  He  then  lifted  his  own 
rimless,  greasy,  dilapidated  " slouch"  from  his  head,  tucked 
it  under  his  arm,  put  my  "pride  of  New  York"  on  his 
shaggy  nob,  and  looked  happy.  He  soon  took  it  off,  examined 
with  pride  and  satisfaction  the  beautiful  finish  of  the  interior, 
replaced  it  upon  his  head,  and  spoke  thus : 

"  Thank  you,  mister.  This  is  the  fust  present  I've  had 
this  many  a  year.  Some  of  the  folks  here  in  the  woods 


HOW  THE  OLD  SETTLER  SETTLED  MY  POTATO  BUGS.   61 

think  you  are  a  man  of  too  big  feelin'  for  sich  as  us.  IVe 
always  found  you  to  be  a  clever  feller,  without  a  bit  of  the 
gentleman  about  you,  and  I'll  stand  up  for  you  while  there's 
a  hemlock  tree  on  Point  Sable,  or  a  ten-pound  pickerel  in 
Bear  Lake." 

Thus  leaving  his  sense  of  gratitude  to  console  me  in  his 
absence,  the  Old  Settler  struck  out  toward  the  forest,  in 
the  direction  of  his  cabin.  On  reaching  the  top  of  the  hill, 
he  halted  for  a  moment,  again  removed  my  new  hat,  again 
scrutinized  the  beautiful  interior,  smoothed  the  body  affec 
tionately  with  his  coat  sleeve,  replaced  it,  and  was  soon  lost 
to  sight,  and  not  particularly  dear  to  memory. 


THE  FIRST  DEATH  IN  OUR  LITTLE  SUNDAY 
SCHOOL. 


HE  was  such  a  very  little  fellow,  and  so  delicate  in  ap 
pearance,  and  so  bright,  and  kind,  and  gentle,  and 
loving,  that  I  first  wondered  how  it  happened  he  was  a  boy. 
As  this  conundium  was  insoluble  in  human  philosophy,  I 
next  spurred  my  ethical  curiosity  into  another  phase  of 
unprofitable  speculation. 

"Why  was  a  man  child — so  etherial — so  good — so  almost 
angelic  in  soul  and  body — permitted  to  be  born  in  a  cold, 
inhospitable  wilderness,  where  mortals  of  the  coarsest  and 
the  hardiest  texture,  who  had  never  known  luxury,  and  in 
consequence  felt  not  its  privation,  alone  could  live  without 
bemoaning  a  fate  only  preferable  to  exile,  or  involuntary 
imprisonment  ?  " 

This  surmise,  after  turning  it  around  into  all  moral  aspects 
possible  to  an  acute  imagination,  also  eluded  a  satisfactory 
verdict,  and  was  dismissed  on  its  own  recognizance. 

The  plain,  hard  fact  alone  remained,  clearly  defined  upon 
the  background  of  impertinent  causality,  that  little  Johnny 
Errickson,  first  son  to  a  rude  Norwegian  emigrant,  had  been 
born,  five  years  before  my  advent  in  that  region,  in  a  primi 
tive  little  log  cabin,  on  the  eastern  shore  of  Lake  Michigan, 
and  tliat  an  old  Ottawa  squaw  did  the  midwife  honors  on 
the  occasion. 

And  Andrew  Errickson,  the  father,  was  killed  on  the 
morning  of  that  same  day  by  the  vengeful  limb  of  a  patri- 


FIHST    DEATH    IN    OUE    LITTLE   SUNDAY   SCHOOL.        63 

archal  pine  tree  he  had  mercilessly  hewn  down  for  the  maw 
of  a  saw  mill.  It  was  believed  by  the  few  white  settlers  of 
the  vicinage,  that  the  sad  fate  of  the  father  had  hastened  the 
advent  of  the  infant  some  weeks  in  advance  of  the  natural 
law  in  such  cases  made  and  provided.  The  shock  to  the 
mother,  so  suddenly  and  tragically  bereft  of  her  young 
husband,  and  left  alone  among  strangers  in  a  strange  land, 
is  supposed  to  have  forestalled  the  event  in  manner  as  here 
written. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  the  hard  fact  remains,  that  the  dead 
father  and  the  new  born  nurseling  lay  upon  the  same  bed 
on  the  morning  of  the  funeral. 

That  little  Johnny  was  thus  hastened  into  this  breathing 
world,  may  account  for  that  nervous  delicacy  of  organization 
to  which  I  have  referred,  and  the  manifestation  of  which 
wrought  within  me  such  a  painful  and  ever  pressing  interest 
in  the  child,  when  I  had  learned  the  simple  facts  of  his  brief 
being. 

When  we  organized  our  little  Sunday  School  here  in  the 
forest,  on  a  bright  Sabbath  in  June,  1872,  Johnny  and  his 
mother  made  two  of  the  nine  human  creatures  in  attendance. 
The  wicked  writer  of  this  wras  made  superintendent,  and  his 
Christian  wife  was  the  only  teacher,  a  position  which  she 
holds  unaided  to  this  day,  January  1st,  1874. 

Johnny  was  but  five  years  of  age ;  and  I  never  looked 
upon  those  great  blue  eyes,  so  full  of  strange,  wondering 
inquiry,  and  that  thin,  pale  face,  in  which  the  dark  veins 
were  so  plainly  visible  in  all  their  tracery,  but  the  conviction 
came  uppermost  that  his  little  life  would  be  but  a  brief 
exhalation  of  its  morning. 

Of  course  the  child  could  not  read  when  we  opened  our 
little  Sunday  School  by  the  waters  of  the  lonely  lake,  in  the 
faith  that  it  would  in  time  become  as  the  voice  of  one  crying 


t>4        FIRST   DEATH    IX   OUR   LITTLE   SUNDAY   SCHOOL. 

in  the  wilderness,  "  Prepare  ye  the  way — make  His  paths 
straight ! " 

But  he  became  a  scholar,  walking  a  long  way  through 
the  thick  woods  every  Sabbath,  never  failing  to  be  present 
until — lie  died  ! 

It  was  wonderful  to  see  how  intensely  the  little  fellow 
devoted  himself  to  his  letters,  and  how  soon  he  mastered 
them.  I  really  don't  think  it  was  over  eight  weeks  before 
the  pale,  sad-faced  child  recited  to  us,  scarcely  missing  a 
word,  the  whole  of  the  Lord's  Prayer.  And  after  that  a 
Sabbath  never  passed  in  which  he  did  not  give  us  a  half 
dozen  verses  from  some  portion  of  the  Scriptures.  And 
how  his  little  face  beamed  with  joy,  and  happiness,  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing,  when  our  commendation  rewarded  his 
proficiency  ! 

The  widow  and  her  son  were  very  poor,  and  Johnny 
would  pick  berries  in  their  season,  and  carry  them  to  the 
lumber  camps  for  sale,  and  then  run  back  through  the  forest 
patl;,  as  fast  as  his  little  legs  could  carry  him,  to  give  his 
mother  the  few  pennies  he  had  thus  gained. 

I  remember  one  Saturday  afternoon  in  the  early  summer 
of  last  year,  that  Johnny  went  down  to  the  saw  mill  at  the 
Point,  with  his  little  basket  filled  with  wild  strawberries, 
to  dispose  of  to  the  hands.  As  he  was  about  to  return,  the 
proprietor,  a  coarse,  bluff,  but  kindly  man,  chanced  to  come 
out  of  his  cabin,  and  meeting  the  lad,  accosted  him  thus : 

"  Hello,  Johnny,  you're  the  very  boy  I  wanted  to  see ! 
I  expect  some  company  to-morrow,  and  I  want  you  to  get 
up  early  in  the  morning  and  pick  me  five  quarts  of  straw 
berries.  I  believe  you're  an  honest  little  chap,  and  I've  got 
a  new  silver  quarter  of  a  dollar  in  my  pocket,  and  I  will 
pay  you  right  now  in  advance." 

The  eyes  of  the  child  glistened  witli  delight,  and  in  his 


FIRST   DEATH    IN   OUR   LITTLE   SUNDAY   SCHOOL.        65 

excitement  he  threw  down  his  basket,  as  though  it  encum 
bered  his  movements,  and  ran  with  all  his  might  toward 
the  outstretched  hand  that  held  the  shining  treasure. 

It  was  doubtless  the  first  silver  coin  the  poor  boy  had 
ever  seen,  but  it  had  hardly  touched  his  eager  palm,  when 
the  sunshine  went  out  of  his  face,  and  his  eyes  were  suffused 
with  tears.  The  flash  of  a  sudden  thought  had  wrought  the 
change. 

He  held  out  the  bright  temptation  toward  the  hand  from 
which  he  had  just  received  it,  and  said: 

"  Xo,  sir ;  I  cannot  pick  berries  to-morrow.  It  is  Sun 
day." 

"  Why,  Johnny,"  exclaimed  the  mill  owner,  with  a  laugh, 
(for  no  one  had  respected  the  Sabbath  in  those  parts,  up  to 
the  time  of  our  little  school,)  when  did  you  get  this  foolish 
thing  in  your  noddle  ?  Last  summer  you  used  to  pick  us 
berries  every  Sunday,  and  nobody  ever  thought  anything 
of  it." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  child,  "  but  I  didn't  know  it  was 
wicked  then.  But  I  go  to  Sunday  School  now,  and  can  read, 
and  the  Bible  says  we  must  remember  the  Sabbath  day  to 
keep  it  holy." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  the  man,  in  a  slightly  impatient  tone, 
"  don't  let  those  folks  who  have  come  in  here  from  the  East 
put  such  stuff  in  your  head.  Johnny,  your  mother  wants 
this  money  bad  enough,  and  it  is  your  duty  to  earn  it  for 
her,  Sunday  or  no  Sunday." 

A  hesitating  look  began  to  creep  into  the  child's  face,  for 
the  man  refused  to  receive  the  money  back. 

The  boy  was  thinking  of  his  mother.  The  contest  went 
on. 

The  struggle  seemed   unequal,  with  hard   poverty  and  a 


66        FIRST   DEATH    IN   OUR    LITTLE   SUNDAY    SCHOOL. 

little  child  on  one  side,  and  what  appeared  to  his  young  eyes 
as  wealth  on  the  other. 

"  Not  by  powei*,  nor  by  might,  but  by  my  spirit,  saith  the 
Lord!"  The  hesitation  of  the  child  was  but  momentary. 
He  dropped  the  coin  in  the  sand  at  the  feet  of  the  tempter, 
recovered  his  basket,  and  struck  into  the  dark  woods  on  his 
homeward  path  as  fast  as  his  little  legs  could  carry  him. 

He  seemed  to  feel  the  danger  of  looking  back.  Reader,  take 
warning  ! 

And  this  was  the  first  visible  victory  of  our  little  Sunday 
School  in  the  wilderness.  Let  strong  Christian  men  and 
women  never  forget  the  day  of  small  things. 

I  think  I  told  you  in  the  beginning  that  this  child  must 
die — that  his  brief  dark  morning  would  be  his  all  of  life. 
It  is  the  coarse  and  the  brutal  who  live  out  all  their  days. 
This  is  true.  And  yet,  perhaps,  it  were  better  had  I  left  it 
unwritten  here. 

In  the  early  September  the  dreaded  scarlet  fever,  so  fatal 
in  our  high  latitude,  pushed  its  annual  visitation  into  our 
secluded  settlement.  Nearly  all  who  were  smitten  died. 

It  was  Sunday,  and  one  of  those  soft  and  beautiful  days 
that  are  only  in  the  fullness  of  their  glory  in  the  solitude 
of  the  untrodden  places.  Johnny  Errickson  came  not  to 
school. 

And  then  I  looked  at  the  little  bench  on  which  the  child 
used  to  sit,  his  pale  lips  moving  over  his  lesson  with  a 
nervous  intentness  painful  to  behold,  and  I  knew  that  his 
place  would  know  him  no  more  forever. 

When  the  night  came,  and  the  voice  of  the  whip-poor-will 
was  alone  heard  in  the  silence,  I  started  for  the  cabin  of  the 
widow,  which  was  about  two  miles  distant. 

I  found  three  or  four  hard  featured  men,  and  about  the 
same  number  of  uncouth  but  tearful  women  present  when  I 


FIRST   DEATH   IN   OUR   LITTLE   SUNDAY   SCHOOL.        67 

lifted  the  wooden  latch  and  entered.  The  little  sufferer  lay 
tossing  upon  the  bed,  starting  occasionally  from  a  half  doze, 
and  throwing  his  arms  about  wildly.  His  face  was  scarlet, 
and  swollen.  His  mother  sat  by  the  bedside,  her  face  buried 
in  the  clothes.  She  was  silent,  but  her  heart-beats  were 
audible  to  those  nearest  her. 

At  last  the  child  feebly  raised  his  head  from  the  pillow, 
and  said : 

"  Mother,  it  is  all  dark.  Let  me  take  hold  of  your 
hand." 

The  wiiow  took  the  child's  hand  in  her  own,  and  the  hot 
tears  dropped,  one  by  one,  upon  it. 

"  Mother,  what  makes  you  cry  so/7  said  the  child,  hoarsely. 
"  God  won't  let  me  die,  mother ;  I  am  so  little." 

He  laid  down  his  head  again,  and  for  a  few  moments  was 
so  still  that  we  thought  jhe  had  gone  to  sleep. 

Suddenly  he  opened  his  eyes,  a  glad  smile  was  upon  his 
face,  he  clapped  his  thin  hands  two  or  three  times  together, 
and  exclaimed : 

"  O,  mother,  it  is  all  light  again  now  !  And  see !  the 
room  is  full  of  dear  little  children,  all  dressed  in  white  ! 
We  will  have  a  bigger  Sunday  School  now,  mother — O !  ever 
so  much  bigger — won't  we,  mother  ?" 

Tears  rolled  down  the  cheeks  of  every  man  present,  and 
the  suppressed  sobs  of  women  filled  the  room. 

The  sufferer  was  again  silent,  but  I  knew  by  his  shortened 
breathings  that  Death  had  entered  the  room,  and  that  his 
skeleton  hand  was  outstretched  for  the  child's  life. 

Five  minutes  had  elapsed,  and  the  boy  still  remained 
motionless.  His  breathing  became  more  and  more  feeble. 

All  at  once  he  turned  over  on  his  side  toward  his  mother, 
opened  his  eyes  slowly,  and  with  an  effort.  Then,  with  a 
faint  smile  upon  his  face,  he  whispered : 


68        FIRST   DEATH    IX   OUR   LITTLE   SUNDAY   SCHOOL. 

"  Mother,  your  little  boy's  work  is  all*done,  and  now  he 
is  tired,  and  will  go  to  sleep." 

I  stepped  softly  to  the  bedside,  and  bent  over  the  boy. 
His  eyes  were  still  open,  but  the  life  had  left  them.  The 
spirit  of  little  Johnny  Errickson  had  passed  over  the  dark 
river  into  the  beautiful  land  of  everlasting  love. 

I  turned  to  the  mother,  and  said : 

"  It  is  best  as  it  is.     Johnny  is  dead." 

A  wail  of  agony  went  out  of  the  heart  of  the  mother,  as 
she  knelt  down  and  kissed  the  brow  of  the  dead. 

He  was  her  only  son,  and  she  was  a  widow. 

Then  came  a  voice  that  was  softer  than  silence,  and  said, 
(( Suffer  little  children  to  come  unto  me,  for  of  such  is  the  King 
dom  of  Heaven." 


DARWINISM  VINDICATED  AND 
CONFIRMED. 


I  HAVE  always  thought,  since  my  giant  intellect  became 
more  gianter  by  study  and  observation,  that  the  Bible 
account  of  the  creation  of  man  was  too  absurd  a  tradition 
for  any  mind  that  had  outgrown  childish  credulity,  and  laid 
aside  its  infantile  books  about  Jack  and  his  Bean-pole,  and 
kindred  stories,  with  which  our  good  grandmothers  used  to 
win  us  to  their  feet,  in  the  almost  forgotten  winter  evenings 
of  the  long  ago.  But  in  the  absence  of  any  counter- 
convincing  theory,  emanating  from  a  philosophic  mind  of 
unquestioned  acuteness,  and  of  moral  respectability,  I  was 
compelled  to  keep  ignoble  silence  upon  a  momentous  subject 
that  I  could  not  credit,  and  yet  unable  to  controvert. 

The  conscientious  reader — he  who  desires  to  believe  right 
upon  a  great  religious  question,  and  yet  has  no  philosophic 
evidence  to  point  the  way  from  doubt  into  belief — can  alone 
appreciate  the  joy  that  kindled  its  radiant  delight  in  my 
soul,  when  Charles  Darwin  appeared  with  his  monkey  before 
the  footlights,  and  holding  it  up  by  its  prehensile  tail, 
exclaimed  to  his  audience : 

"  Behold  one  of  your  intermediate  ancestors  !  !  !  " 
To  say  that  I  was  delighted  beyond  all  facility  of  expres 
sion,  at  this  happy  solution  of  the  question  that  had  so 
troubled  me  for  years,  is  but  a  feeble  way  of  announcing  the 
satisfaction  I  derived  in  thus  being  able  to  claim  the  cunning 
little  creature  of  the  primitive  village  show  tent  as  a  man 
and  a  brother ! 


70  DARWINISM    VINDICATED   AND   CONFIRMED. 

Pecuniary  considerations,  of  too  delicate  a  nature  for  more 
explicit  public  explanation,  alone  restrained  me  from  the 
immediate  purchase  of  the  coveted  volumes  in  which  the 
monkey  idea  was  socially  and  so  satisfactorily  elucidated. 

But  I  was  so  fortunate  one  day,  during  an  idle  visit  to 
that  pernicious  school  of  theological  superstition,  the  "Young 
Men's  Christian  Association,"  of  the  city  of  Trenton,  to  pick 
up  a  newspaper,  and  therein  I  read  an  extract  from  the  Book 
of  Darwin,  in  which  it^was  shown  that  man  was  developed, 
through  ages  of  progression,  from  a  rather  shaky  sort  of 
jelly  at  the  bottom  of  the  ocean  !  This  watering  of  our 
common  stock  proved  the  genius  which  conceived  the  idea, 
and  has  ever  since  found  industrious  imitators,  of  which  the 
late  James  Fisk,  and  his  worthy  living  executor,  Jay  Gould, 
are  the  happiest  exemplars. 

Finding  that  the  water  cure  had  drowned  out  the  Bible 
fallacy  of  the  "  dust  of  the  earth,"  in  regard  to  the  "  origin 
of  our  species,"  I  had  a  foundation  upon  which  to  rest  my 
own  lever,  for  the  further  overturning  of  the  delusion  of  the 
pious,  and  misplaced  faith  of  the  weak  and  credulous. 

And  so  I  set  my  own  active  and  investigating  mind  to  the 
task  of  discovering  cumulative  testimony  to  brace,  with  addi 
tional  strength,  the  theory  that  seemed  so  firmly  based  upon 
the  great  original  principle  of  jelly. 

The  first  thought  that  came  to  my  assistance  was  one  that 
might  have  escaped  ordinary  observation,  because  it  was 
right  under  the  nose,  instead  of  being  reachless,  under  the 
great  depths  of  the  ocean.  The  philosophic  Darwinian,  as  a 
rule,  is  apt  to  despise  the  surface,  and  boldly  dives  to  where 
there  is  neither  seeing  nor  hearing.  The  dullest  delver  can 
grasp  superficial  facts.  The  real  Darwinian  brushes  such 
aside,  and  with  his  long  oyster  tongs,  dredges  up  the  jelly 
from  the  bottom.  I  am  but  a  freshmen  of  the  class,  a 


DARWINISM    VINDICATED   AND    CONFIRMED.  71 

neophyte  for  the  honors,  and  this  is  why  I  stood  at  the  vesti 
bule  of  science,  and  picked  up  the  crumbs  that  had  been 
swept  out,  unrecognized,  from  the  Darwinian  table. 

But  to  the  thought  from  which  I  am  beginning  to  stray. 

In  one  of  the  instructive  books  of  Charles  Dickens,  there 
is  a  person  named  Jellyby.  How  came  that  person  so  named, 
and  what  is  the  inference  of  her  ancestry  ?  The  intelligent 
reader  at  once  anticipates  the  point.  The  original  progenitor 
of  the  Jellybys  was,  in  all  probability,  the  first  of  the  human 
species !  Developed  from  a  jelly — what  more  natural  than 
that  he  should  name  himself  after  the  element  of  his  origin  ? 
This  deduction  is  irresistible — as  much  so,  let  me  diffidently 
add,  as  any  drawn  by  the  great  mind  of  which  I  am  only  a 
disciple. 

In  further  pursuance  of  this  logical  train  of  reasoning,  I 
remembered  that  Shakspeare,  who  comprehended  every  phase 
of  human  nature,  describes  one  of  his  characters  as  almost 

"  Distilled  to  jelly  by  the  act  of  fear." 

This  proves  that  the  developed  man  was  so  frightened  that 
he  was  almost  dissolved  back  to  his  original  elements  ! 

And  again — Why,  when  people  become  emaciated  and 
weakened  by  dangerous  illness,  is  jelly  given  to  them  as  food 
appropriate  to  such  feebleness  ?  Because  it  is  drawing  from 
the  fount  of  life  to  renew  and  strengthen  the  decline  of  that  life  ! 

These  few  incidents  must  suffice  for  the  special  point  of 
illustration  in  view.  Space,  and  not  lack  of  material,  demands 
this  brevity.  And  now  for  the  positive  and  tangible  facts 
that  settle  the  question  beyond  controversy  or  criticism. 

Man  stands  with  one  foot  upon  the  bottom  of  the  ocean, 
and  the  other  upon  the  surface  of  the  earth,  as  developed 
from  a  jelly  to  a  human  being.  Now  mark  how,  by  easy 
stages,  the  wonderful  transition  was  effected. 


72  DARWINISM    VINDICATED   AND    CONFIRMED. 

We  will  assume  that  the  first  stage  was  from  a  jelly  to  a 
clam.  Hence  the  origin  of  the  word  clamorous,  when  we 
become  impatient  for  a  result.  Then  the  jelly-clam,  begin 
ning  to  get  the  hang  of  the  thing  by  a  dimly  developed 
instinct,  or  mind,  took  a  more  lively  stride,  and  clamed  its 
way  into  a  crab,  thus  advancing  towards  its  perfect  state,  as 
a  creature  that  can  live  both  upon  the  water  and  the  land. 
In  support  of  this  changed  state  in  the  progress  of  develop 
ment,  I  need  only  adduce  the  fact,  that  in  the  language 
handed  down  to  us  from  the  remotest  antiquity,  a  man  with  a 
contradictory  nature  is  said  to  be  at  times  a  "  little  crabbed  !  " 

And  now  the  jelly-clam-crab  takes  a  rather  wider  depart 
ure,  according  to  his  increased  strength  and  intelligence, 
crawls  forth  upon  the  land,  and  suns  himself  as  an  alligator! ! 
Hence  it  is  that  the  proud  son  of  Kentucky,  impelled  by  an 
instinct  without  scientific  knowledge,  proclaims  himself, 
"  half  horse  and  half  alligator  !  " 

But  it  is  unnecessary  to  prolong  these  facts  by  furnishing 
the  additional  links  that  connect  man  with  his  creator,  the 
gelatinous  substance  that  oozes  from  the  bed  of  the  ocean. 
He  who  denies  the  Darwinian  truths  I  have  already 
advanced,  would  not  believe  though  one  arose  from  the 
asylum. 

I  am  not  disposed  to  rest  here,  however,  for  there  is 
another  field  in  the  philosophy  of  development,  that  even 
the  acute  mind  of  the  author  of  the  "  Origin  of  the  Species" 
has  failed  to  discern.  I  mean  the  origin  of  the  celestial 
bodies.  It  may  seem  like  ingratitude  for  a  student  to  out 
strip  the  master  to  whom  he  owes  so  much,  but  the  claims  of 
science  are  superior  to  the  conventional  requirements  of 
friendship. 

"  How  came  the  stars  of  the  firmament  in  their  exalted 
places,  and  the  sun  as  master  of  the  celestial  situation  ?  " 


DARWINISM   VINDICATED   AND    CONFIRMED.  73 

I  answer  this  seemingly  triumphant  conundrum,  with  a 
single  word : 

LIGHTNING-BUGS  ! ! 

In  the  beginning  a  sufficient  number  of  these  wonderful 
insects  were  commanded  to  develope,  to  attain  the  grand 
purpose  contemplated  by  Nature.  The  first  stage  of  pro 
gress  was  those  false  meteors  that  occasionally  blaze  in  the 
lower  firmament,  and  disappear  from  our  sight.  When  the 
ultimate  object  of  their  advancement  toward  perfection  was 
achieved,  behold  the  stars  of  heaven!  One  old  he  fellow, 
more  ambitious  than  the  rest,  kept  on  developing  until 
he  became  the  sun  ! 

And  thus  ends  the  harmonious  perfection  of  the  Darwinian 
theory,  in  a  blaze  of  glory  ! 

Comment  is  unnecessary. 

E 


A  TALE  OF  THE  WARS  OF  PONTIAC. 


fTIHE  incidents  of  this  our  true  story,  date  back  over  a 
JL  century  ago. 

On  the  morning  of  the  13th  of  September,  1759,  the  flag 
of  France  waved  above  the  ramparts  of  Quebec  for  the  last 
time.  The  night  previous,  the  army  of  the  heroic  "Wolfe 
had  scaled  the  fearful  hights  that  buttressed  the  Plains  of 
Abraham,  and  when  the  sun  rose  the  astonished  soldiers  of 
Montcalm  saw  its  rays  flashing  back  from  the  bayonets  of 
their  enemies,  whose  compact  lines  were  drawn  up  in  battle 
array.  The  fierce  conflict  that  ensued  is  now  historical,  and 
its  events  need  not  here  be  recapitulated.  The  treaty  that 
followed  ceded  all  Canada  to  the  British  crown.  On  the  29th 
of  November,  1760,  Detroit  was  surrendered  to  an  English 
force. 

The  numerous  Indian  tribes  of  the  northwest  were  the 
allies  of  the  French,  and  their  hatred  of  the  English  was 
bloody  and  unrelenting.  Pontiac,  the  great  chief  of  the 
fierce  Ottawas,  of  Lake  Michigan,  was  a  savage  of  wonderful 
endowments.  Eloquent  and  sagacious  in  council,  fearless  in 
battle,  and  with  an  energy  that  never  tired  or  faltered,  he 
wielded  an  influence  over  all  the  other  tribes,  never  equaled 
by  an  Indian  warror,  until  his  successor,  Tecumseh,  appeared 
upon  the  wild  scene  of  action. 

Pontiac  saw  at  once  that  the  only  safety  of  his  people  lay 
in  the  extermination  of  the  encroaching  English.  Fired 
with  this  conviction,  the  fierce  chief,  without  companionship 


A   TALE   OF   THE   WARS   OF   PONTIAC. 


70 


of  any  kind,  threaded  the  dark  and  pathless  forest  on  a  war 
mission  to  all  the  tribes  bordering  on  Lakes  Huron,  Michi 
gan,  and  Superior,  and  even  penetrated  the  wilderness  which 
held  the  Iroquois  of  the'Onondaga  region.  Tireless,  sleep 
less,  and  inspired  by  a  patriotic  hate,  that  seemed  to  sustain 
him  beyond  natural  strength,  he  finally  succeeded  in  gather 
ing  a  force  of  two  thousand  painted  warriors,  arrayed  in  a 
final  effort  to  stay  the  encroachments  of  the  white  invaders 

It  was  in  the  spring  of  1763,  that  Pontiac  and  his  follow 
ers,  accompanied  by  their  wives  and  children,  took  the  trail 
that  led  from  Lake  Huron  to  Detroit.  On  his  arrival  he 
encamped  a  short  distance  from  the  outwork  of  the  fort,  pro 
fessing  a  peaceful  mission  while  anxiously  awaiting  the 
appearance  of  his  allies.  As  the  different  chiefs  approached 
with  their  followers,  they  were  stopped  miles  from  the  town 
by  Pontiac,  and  constructed  their  villages  beyond  the  reach 
3t  the  knowledge  of  the  garrison  of  Detroit. 
In  the  meantime,  Pontiac  and  his  warriors,  to  the  number 


,  with  their  women  and  children,  were  permitted  to 
the  town   at  intervals   to  hold  conferences   with  the 
English  officers,  and  to  exchange  the  skins  of  animals  for 
trinkets,  tobacco,  &c. 

The  chief  had  a  daughter  which  the  French  soldiers  had 
named  -Lac  la  Belle,-  or  Belle  of  the  Lake,  because  of  her 
rare  Indian  grace  and  beauty. 

The  garrison  was  commanded  by  Capt.  Gladwyn,  a  young 
English  officer  of  great  gallantry  and  fine  personal  appear 
ance  Lac  la  Belle  soon  came  to  love  the  English  com 
mander  with  all  the  wild  fervor  of  her  nature.  Gladwyn 
3turn,  manifested  a  strong  interest  in  the  dusky  maiden 
ol  the  woods',  and  the  two  were  in  each  other's  company  as 

brief  opportunity  would  permit. 
One  day  the  Indian  maiden  entered  the  quarters  of  Glad- 


76  A   TALE   OP   THE   WARS   OF   PONTIAC. 

wyn  with  a  pair  of  moccasins,  made  by  her  own  hands,  and 
beautifully  ornamented,  which  she  had  wrought  at  his  request, 
and  presented  them  to  him.  She  was  silent,  but  her  face  was 
sad  and  sorrowful,  and  her  eyes  suffused  with  tears.  He 
questioned  her  as  to  the  cause  of  her  unwonted  manner,  to 
which  she  only  responded  with  sobs.  Gladwyn,  supposing  it 
to  be  but  a  momentary  whim,  or  a  loving,  womanly  caprice 
of  melancholy  that  possessed  her,  tried  to  enliven  her  by 
a  few  jesting  allusions  to  her  unhappy  state  of  feeling,  when, 
some  officers  entering  with  reports,  he  led  her  to  the  door, 
stooped  down  and  kissed  her  brow  affectionately,  bid  her 
good  bye,  with  the  request  that  she  would  call  again  on  the 
morrow. 

Lac  la  Belle  tottered  off  a  few  steps,  sat  down  upon  the 
ground,  buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  while  her  long,  black 
tresses  fell  forward  upon  her  knees. 

She  remained  in  this  position  so  long  that  the  sentinel  at 
the  door  began  to  think  that  there  was  something  of  more 
than  common  meaning  in  her  despairing  attitude  and  man 
ner,  and  stepping  inside  informed  his  commander  of  the 
singular  circumstance.  Gladwyn  walked  to  a  loop-hole 
and  observed  her  attentively  for  a  few  moments.  He  then 
dismissed  the  officers,  and  ordered  the  sentinel  to  bring  the 
girl  before  him.  The  latter  stepped  toward  her  and  laid  his 
hand  gently  on  her  shoulder. 

"  The  captain  desires  to  speak  to  you,"  said  the  soldier,  in 
a  kind  and  compassionate  tone. 

Without  a  word,  or  a  look  of  recognition  to  the  sentinel, 
the  girl  arose  to  her  feet  and  walked  into  the  fort.  Gladwyn 
met  her  at  the  entrance,  and,  taking  her  hand  in  his,  led  her 
to  his  private  office. 

"  There  is  something  unusual  the  matter  with  my  forest 
bird  to-day,"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  placed  his  arms  endearingly 


A  TALE  OF  THE  WARS  OF  PONTIAC.         77 

around  her  neck,  and  kissed  the  tears  from  her  eyes.  "  Do 
you  think  that  I  have  ceased  to  love  you,  because  at  times  I 
seem  neglectful,  under  the  over-pressing  cares  and  anxieties 
of  my  position  ?  The  daughter  of  Pontiac  should  not  grieve 
over  childish  fancies." 

At  the  mention  of  her  father's  name  a  visible  thrill 
passed  through  the  frame  of  the  maiden.  Rising  slowly  to 
her  feet,  like  one  almost  bereft  of  motion,  she  turned  an 
agonizing  look  into  the  face  of  her  lover,  and  tremulously 
wailed  out : 

"  When  the  sun  sinks  down  into  the  great  water  that  lies 
beyond  the  mountains  of  the  west,  the  white  chief  will  take 
a  canoe  and  go  down  the  river  to  his  brethren  at  Quebec  ? 
I  will  send  one  of  our  people  with  him,  past  the  Pottawatto- 
mie  village,  on  the  south  of  the  encampment,  and  then  he 
will  be  safe.  I  can  say  no  more.  Will  the  white  chief  heed 
the  words  of  the  weak  Indian  girl  who  would  die  for  him, 
but  cannot  save  him  if  he  remains  ?  " 

The  conviction  that  a  treacherous  assault  upon  the  place 
by  Pontiac  was  matured  and  imminent  flashed  upon  the  mind 
of  Gladwyn.  He  drew  himself  up  to  his  full  attitude,  and 
a  soldierly  fire  gleamed  from  his  eye. 

"And  it  is  the  daughter  of  a  great  chief  who  would 
counsel  the  one  who  loves  her  to  cowardly  flee  from  a  danger 
he  should  be  the  first  to  confront?  Would  Lac  la  Belle 
have  me  to  leave  my  comrades  to  the  slaughter  and  the  tor 
ture  of  savage  cruelty  and  seek  refuge  in  flight  ?  Girl,  you 
are  crazed  with  brooding  over  a  terrible  secret,  in  which  my 
life  is  involved,  and  you  know  not  the  infamy  you  advise.  I 
cannot  ask  you  to  betray  your  father.  Go  back  to  your 
people  with  your  secret  unbroken,  and  leave  me  to  whatever 
fate  craft  and  treachery  may  have  prepared  for  myself,  and 
the  companions  whose  lives  are  entrusted  to  me." 


78         A  TALE  OF  THE  WARS  OF  PONTIAC. 

Thus  speaking,  Gladwyn  took  the  girl  by  the  hand  to  lead 
her  to  the  door.  But  the  maiden  released  his  clasp,  and 
gazing  into  his  eyes  for  an  instant  with  an  expression  of 
tender  and  subdued  pride,  said  : 

"  The  white  chief  has  spoken  well,  and  the  poor  Indian 
girl  is  mad.  But  the  Great  Spirit  has  let  a  light  into  her 
heart,  and  there  she  can  read  what  he  would  have  her  say. 
Listen  !" 

"  When  the  sun  is  over  the  tops  of  the  pines  to-morrow, 
Pontiac  will  come  into  the  fort  with  fifty  chiefs,  each  carry 
ing  a  gun  that  has  been  cut  off  so  as  to  be  easily  hidden 
under  their  blankets.  He  will  demand  a  council.  At  a 
signal  every  English  officer  will  be  killed,  and  the  sentinels 
at  the  gate  will  be  shot  down  by  a  number  of  our  people  who 
will  be  carelessly  lying  about  on  the  grass  at  the  entrance. 
Two  hundred  picked  warriors  will  be  crouched  under  the 
high  banks  of  the  river,  who  will  then  rush  in,  and  every 
living  white  man,  woman  and  child,  is  to  be  killed  and 
scalped/7 

She  paused  a  moment,  and  seemed  to  be  painfully  strug 
gling  with  some  internal  conflict  for  further  utterance.  At 
last,  she  continued  in  a  firmer  voice,  like  one  who  has  mas 
tered  her  emotions  : 

"  And  now  the  Indian  girl  has  told  you  all,  and  betrayed 
her  father  and  her  kindred  to  perhaps  certain  death.  And 
why  has  she  done  this  against  those  who  are  only  trying  to 
reclaim  their  own  from  the  cruel  race  which  lias  so  wronged 
them  ?  She  can  only  say  it  is  because  she  loves  the  white 
chief,  and  can  wish  to  die  for  his  safety.  She  could  see  all 
his  people  perish,  and  joy  in  their  torture.  But  she  loves 
the  white  chief  who  has  been  so  kind  to  her,  and  she  cannot 
keep  what  she  has  revealed.  The  Great  Spirit  has  spoken 
through  the  tongue  of  Lac  la  Belle." 


A   TALE   OF   THE   WARS   OF   PONTIAC.  79 

Again  she  paused.  But  the  tears  were  dried  upon  her 
cheek,  and  her  whole  deportment  was  touchingly  calm  and 
womanly.  She  then  took  a  step  forward,  clasped  the  hand  of 
the  commander  in  both  her  own,  laid  her  head  upon  his 
bosom,  and  said  in  a  soft,  sad  voice  : 

"  The  white  chief  is  wise,  and  will  be  prepared  for  to 
morrow,  but  will  shed  no  blood.  This  is  all  the  Indian  girl 
asks  of  him  she  loves." 

So  saying,  she  gathered  her  embroidered  blanket  about  her 
graceful  form,  left  the  fort,  passed  the  wondering  sentinel  at 
the  gate,  entered  a  bark  canoe,  and  soon  joined  her  people  on 
the  Canadian  side  of  the  river. 

The  morning  sun  rose  slowly  out  of  the  eastern  forest  and 
shot  his  rays  full  upon  the  palisades  of  Detroit.  The  giant 
pines  seemed  transfixed  in  the  pulseless  atmosphere.  All 
around  was  the  sublimity  of  forest  solitude.  The  garrison 
had  been  under  arms  all  night,  but  as  the  daylight  advanced 
into  the  unbroken  silence,  the  soldiers  had  been  dismissed  for 
two  hours  of  sleep.  A  few  drowsy  sentinels  alone  leaned 
motionless  upon  their  muskets. 

About  ten  o'clock  a  fleet  of  canoes  were  seen  to  put  out 
from  the  western  shore  of  the  river  toward  the  fort.  These 
were  filled  with  squaws  and  children,  who  soon  swarmed  into 
the  vacant  space  in  the  rear  of  the  wooden  defenses  of  De 
troit.  An  hour  later  Pontiac  and  his  confederate  chiefs 
appeared  upon  the  ground,  closely  wrapped  in  their  blankets, 
but  all  seemingly  unarmed.  But  their  dark  eyes  shot  forth 
the  baleful  fires  of  anticipated  massacre,  as  they  cast  furtive 
glances  of  hate  upon  defenses  and  defenders. 

The  chieftains  reached  the  gate  of  the  little  town,  which 
was  at  once  thrown  open  for  their  admission.  As  the  savages 
filed  up  the  single  street  toward  the  council  chamber,  a  sight 
met  their  view  that  startled  even  Pontiac  from  his  usual 


80  A   TALE   OF   THE   WARS   OF   PONTIAC. 

stoicism,  and  a  fierce  exclamation,  half  strangled  in  its  birthr 
escaped  him.  On  either  side  of  their  advance  stood  an  hun 
dred  stalwart  soldiers  of  England,  with  bayoneted  guns  in 
their  hands,  and  pistols  in  their  belts  ! 

Pontiac  saw  at  a  glance  that  his  plot  was  either  suspected 
or  betrayed.  On  entering  the  council  chamber  with  his  fol 
lowers,  he  sat  sullenly  down  upon  the  ground,  in  evident 
doubt  and  perplexity.  At  length  he  arose,  and  with  a  fierce 
look  at  Gladwyn,  enquired  : 

"  Did  my  white  brother  suspect  the  truth  of  Pontiac  and 
his  people  that  he  thus  receives  them  as  enemies  ?  When 
was  the  wampum  of  amity  broken  between  us  ?  When  did 
an  Ottawa  speak  with  forked  tongue,  or  draw  the  tomahawk 
in  a  council  of  peace  ?" 

"  My  young  men,"  responded  Gladwyn,  with  a  sarcastic 
smile,  "  are  only  receiving  their  warrior  friends  after  the 
custom  of  the  English.  Our  king  would  be  angry  with  his 
servants  if  they  neglected  such  honors  when  so  great  a  chief 
as  Pontiac  was  a  guest  under  his  flag." 

The  eye  of  the  baffled  savage  gleamed  like  that  of  a  rattle 
snake,  as  he  turned  from  the  face  of  Gladwyn,  slowly  around 
upon  the  assembled  officers  of  the  fort.  Once  he  seemed  in 
the  act  of  giving  the  signal,  but  on  the  instant  the  rattle  of 
musketry  without,  and  the  deep  alarm  roll  of  the  drum, 
dispelled  what  little  hope  he  had  of  taking  his  enemy  una 
wares.  The  council  soon  broke  up  without  further  incident, 
and  the  Indians  at  once  departed  to  their  own  encampments 
on  the  farther  side  of  the  river. 

A  week  had  now  elapsed  since  the  events  we  have  just 
narrated,  and  not  a  single  savage  had  attempted  to  enter  the 
fort,  or  hold  parley  with  its  defenders.  Their  hunting  parties 
could  be  seen  leaving  the  Ottawa  village  every  morning, 
returning  in  the  evening  with  canoes  laden  with  venison,  but 


A   TALE   OF   THE   WARS   OF   PONTIAC.  81 

no  demonstration  of  either  friendship  or  hostility  broke  in 
upon  the  monotony  of  garrison  life. 

But  on  the  morning  of  the  eighth  day  a  canoe,  in  which 
was  seated  a  single  warrior,  was  seen  by  a  sentinel  to  put  out 
from  the  opposite  shore  of  the  river,  directly  toward  the  fort. 
There  was  a  strong,  skillful  hand  at  the  paddle,  and  on  the 
the  light  craft  came  with  a  speed  that  excited  the  admiration 
of  the  half  civilized  hunters  who  made  a  part  of  the  garrison, 
and  who  had  crowded  to  the  palisades  the  moment  the  sen 
tinel  had  announced  the  coming  of  the  canoe. 

"  I'll  bet  my  rifle  agin  an  old  chaw  of  tobacker,"  exclaimed 
a  long,  gaunt,  frowsy-headed  trapper  from  the  head  of  Lake 
Michigan,  who  had  come  down  but  the  day  before  with  a 
canoe  load  of  peltries  to  trade  at  the  fort,  "  that  yonder  big 
red  devil  is  one  of  them  bloody  Ojibwas  from  Huron.  There 
aint  a  Chippewa,  nor  a  Wyandot,  nor  a  skulking  wolf  of  a 
Mingo  of  the  Great  Lake,  who  can  put  a  boat  through  a  head 
wind,  on  a  straight  line,  like  that  sarpent  is  a  doing  it." 

The  savage  had  now  approached  near  the  shore,  and  the 
trapper,  with  hand  shading  his  eyes,  was  attentively  scrutin 
izing  his  appearance.  Whatever  the  suspicions  of  the  latter 
might  have  been  when  the  Indian  was  first  seen  approaching, 
closer  investigation  seemed  entirely  to  confirm  them. 

"  May  I  be  roasted  on  hemlock  logs  by  Ottawa  squaws," 
he  suddenly  broke  forth,  "  ef  that  red  nigger  haint  got  a 
white  gal's  hair  at  his  belt." 

And  without  further  words  he  raised  his  fatal  rifle  to  his 
shoulder.  Another  second  and  the  Indian,  who.  had  reached 
the  shore,  and  was  about  pulling  his  boat  up  on  the  sandy 
slope,  would  have  received  a  leaden  passport  to  the  happy 
hunting  ground.  But  just  then  a  strong  arm  seized  the 
trapper  by  his  long  matted  locks,  and  hurled  him  backward 
upon  the  ground.  His  rifle  was  discharged  as  he  was  falling, 


82  A   TALE   OF   THE   WARS   OF   PONTIAC. 

and  the  contents  passed  harmlessly  into  the  air.  It  was 
Gladwyn  who  had  thus  opportunely  arrived,  and  saved  the 
life  of  the  intended  victim. 

"  Take  that  chattering  idiot  to  the  fort,"  he  exclaimed, 
"  and  chain  him  to  a  picket  until  we  can  deal  with  him  as  his 
offense  demands.  Such  fools  are  the  cause  of  nearly  all  the 
blood  that  is  spilled  in  these  wars,  and  must  be  taught  the 
rules  of  Christian  warfare." 

The  discomfited  trapper  was  led  off  by  a  file  of  soldiers, 
but  as  he  went  he  turned  his  face  to  Gladwyn  and  said  : 

"  Cap'in,  mayhap  you'll  see  afore  you're  much  older  that 
Ingins  will  be  Ingins,  and  your  '  Christian  warfare7  aint 
'zackly  the  medicine  to  cure  their  complaint.  When  you've 
lived  in  these  here  woods  as  long  as  I  have,  and  larned  more 
of  the  ways  of  the  red  varmints,  p'raps  you'll  git  your  eye 
teeth  cut,  and  p'raps  you  won't.  At  any  rate,  I  know  I'm 
right,  and  will  try  the  same  thing  over  agin  on  the  first 
durn'd  redskin  that  comes  within  reach  of  my  rifle,  wearing 
a  white  gal's  scalp.  So,  Cap'in,  ef  that  aint  your  style,  you 
mout  as  well  shoot  me  right  here." 

In  the  meantime  the  Indian,  who  was  evidently  unarmed, 
had  pushed  his  boat  hastily  back  into  the  water  on  the  report 
of  the  rifle,  and  then  turned  to  reconnoitre.  Apparently 
satisfied  that  the  demonstration  was  not  intended  for  him,  he 
again  beached  his  canoe,  and  wrapping  his  blanket  around 
him  so  as  to  hide  the  hideous  trophy  that  had  so  enraged  the 
trapper,  strode  up  to  the  gate  of  the  fort. 

He  was  admitted  by  the  commander  in  person,  and  at  once 
proceeded  to  announce  his  mission. 

"Pontiac  wants  the  Englishman,  with  as  many  of  his 
young  men  as  he  chooses  to  bring  with  him,  to  come  over  at 
once  to  the  Ottawa  village  to  a  council." 

"And  why,"  rejoined  Gladwyn,  "  does  my  brother  make 


A   TALE   OF   THE   WARS   OF   PONTIAC.  83 

such  a  request  now  for  the  first  time  ?  He  has  always  here 
tofore  came  with  his  warriors  to  the  fort,  when  he  wished  a 
talk  with  his  English  friends.  Has  he  not  been  suffered  to 
depart  in  peace  as  he  came,  and  with  many  presents  from  his 
white  father,  the  King  ?" 

"  Pontiac  is  a  mighty  chief,  and  his  braves  are  of  many 
tribes,  and  as  numerous  as  the  pigeons  that  come  from  the 
south  when  the  leaves  are  reddened  by  the  frost  and  the  beach 
nuts  fall  to  the  ground.  The  messenger  has  but  to  deliver 
his  words,  and  has  no  right  to  know  their  meaning.  When 
the  sun  begins  to  turn  the  shadows  of  the  hemlocks  toward 
the  north,  Wawatam  will  return  to  him  who  sent  him." 

So  saying  the  huge  savage  sat  down  upon  the  ground,  lit 
his  pipe,  and  refused  all  further  conversation.  Nor  would  he 
partake  of  the  hospitality  freely  tendered  him  by  officers  and 
soldiers.  He  continued  to  smoke  in  calm  indifference  to  his 
surroundings,  and  never  once  returned  the  look  of  the  curious 
idlers  who  had  gathered  around  him.  He  wore  the  elk  skin 
moccasin  of  the  Ojibwas,  the  fiercest  and  bloodiest  of  all  the 
savages  of  the  Great  Lakes. 

The  trapper  before  mentioned  was  fastened  with  a  dog 
chain  to  a  post  within  the  fort,  but  the  door  was  open  so  that 
he  could  look  out  upon  the  scene  in  front.  The  bearer  of 
Pontiac's  message  sat  about  fifty  yards  distant,  and  upon  him 
the  prisoner  stared  with  a  look  of  perplexed  uncertainty.  At 
last  he  said  to  the  sentinel : 

"See  here,  red  coat,  just  send  one  of  your  fellers  over  to 
that  Ingin,  and  see  if  the  little  finger  of  his  left  hand  aint 


The  soldier  was  a  kindly,  good-natured  man,  and  at  once 
requested  a  comrade  to  stroll  over  and  carelessly  make  the 
desired  investigation.  The  result  confirmed  what  the  trapper 
had  suggested.  With  a  stifled  burst  of  rage  he  muttered : 


84  A   TALE   OF   THE   WARS   OF   PONTIAC. 

"  The  Ojibwa  thief  and  murderer  !  He  has  the  hair  of  my 
brother  and  his  little  boy,  in  his  wigwam  by  the  outlet  of  the 
Upper  Huron  !  And  here  am  I,  chained  like  a  dog  to  his 
kennel  !  Damn  that  l  Christian  warfare7  of  an  English  Cap 
tain  !  A  smooth-faced  boy  to  teach  old  Joe  Lukens  what's 
manners  among  redskins  !" 

He  shook  his  head  a  few  moments  in  silence,  and  then 
resumed  in  a  low  voice,  as  if  arguing  against  a  resolve  that 
he  could  hardly  reconcile  to  his  conscience. 

"  Xo,  no ;  the  meddling  youngster  only  did  his  duty,  I 
suppose,  accordin'  to  his  light.  He  came  from  a  country  over 
the  seas,  where  the  Quebec  traders  say  there  is  nothin'  but 
cities,  and  ignorant  people  who  live  in  houses,  and  where  hair 
the  men,  women  and  children  starve,  that  a  few  of  their 
breatheren  may,  accordin'  to  missionary  talk  up  to  Michilli- 
mackinac,  dress  in  purple  and  fine  linen,  and  fare  sumtooisly 
every  day." 

Again  he  paused.  Again  shook  his  head  deprecatingly. 
Again  continued : 

"  I  can't  bring  myself  to  hate  that  boy  of  an  English  cap 
tain,  and  to  act  accordingly  when  I  git  clear  of  this  infarnal 
hole,  where  a  woodman  can  scace  git  his  breath.  There  was 
a  day,  when  I  first  went  out  with  the  French  of  Montreal 
agin  the  cussed  Iroquois  of  the  Six  Nations,  when  I  would  a 
twisted  his  neck  off  for  sich  as  this,  with  as  little  compunc 
tion  as  I  would  that  of  a  wounded  patridge.  But  I  was 
young  then,  and  I  fear,  as  bloody  minded  as  a  wild  Mingo, 
when  the  war-whoop  sounded  in  the  woods  by  Lake  Ontary. 
But  I  'spose  the  English  lad  only  did  his  duty  acordin'  ta 
his  light,  and  that  is  the  most  the  best  of  us  kin  do,  acordin' 
to  the  missionary  doctern." 

"  But,"  he  shouted,  after  a  short  pause,  and  springing  to 
the  length  of  his  iron  tether,  "  does  the  brat,  in  his  braided 


A   TALE   OF   THE   WARS   OF    PONTIAC.  85 

soldier  fixins,  think  this  chain  can  hold  me  longer  than  I 
choose  to  be  dog-tied  to  his  pine  stick  ?  " 

The  sentinel  here  lowered  his  bayonet  to  the  breast  of  the 
prisoner,  and  commanded  silence.  The  trapper  smiled,  and 
sat  down  upon  a  low  bench. 

"  Fergive  me,  comrade/7  he  exclaimed,  "  I  aint  got  nothin' 
agin  you,  you  are  only  doin'  acordin'  to  your  bringin'  up,  and 
you  would  be  shot  acordin'  to  (  Christian  warfare/  as  the  boy 
has  it,  if  you  showed  you  was  a  white  man  of  the  woods,  and 
let  me  out  of  this  badger's  den.  Your  ways  aint  as  my 
ways,  and  I  aint  got  anything  agin  you.  But  before  the 
moon  lights  up  the  eastern  forest,  Joe  Lukens  will  be  either 
&  dead  lump  of  earth,  or  a  free  man  of  the  wilderness.  He 
would  rather  take  his  chances  with  the  Ingins,  than  be 
•chained  with  the  white  men  of  '  Christian  warfare  ! ' ' 

As  we  have  said  before,  Gladwyn  was  a  brave  and  fearless 
soldier.  He  had  his  doubts  about  the  intentions  of  the 
savages  in  thus  demanding  his  presence  in  their  midst,  but 
rather  than  show  doubt  and  timidity,  he  resolved  to  brave 
the  consequences.  As  the  hour  indicated  by  the  Ojibwa 
messenger  approached,  he  selected  three  of  his  trustiest  subor 
dinates,  and  informed  the  savage  that  he  was  ready  to  go 
with  him. 

The  Indian  arose  without  a  word,  led  the  way  out  of  the 
gate,  down  to  the  river,  and  the  party  entered  the  boat.  A 
few  minutes  brought  them  to  the  other  side,  where  Pontiac, 
and  fully  a  hundred  painted  chiefs  and  warriors  stood  ready 
to  receive  them. 

No  greetings  passed  between  the  parties  as  they  met,  and 
a  sullen  hostility  marked  the  expression  in  the  face  of  each 
warrior.  Even  the  squaws  and  children,  who  usually  mani 
fest  delight  at  the  gathering  of  a  peaceful  council  between 


86  A   TALE   OF   THE   WARS   OF   PONTIAC. 

their  people  and  the  whites,  now  wore  a  look  hungry  for 
blood. 

Pontiac  pointed  to  a  log  enclosure,  covered  with  hemlock 
branches,  and  led  the  way.  The  line  filed  in  and  formed  a 
circle,  placing  the  Englishmen  in  the  centre.  Every  action 
thus  far  had  a  look  ominous  of  danger.  A  hundred,  deep 
set,  black,  snaky  eyes,  shed  a  lurid  light  of  hate  upon  the 
four  unarmed  men,  but  not  a  sound  had  yet  been  uttered. 

Pontiac  raised  his  right  hand,  and  his  warriors  at  once 
squatted  upon  the  ground.  He  then  took  one  step  forward 
from  the  circle,  and  looking  for  a  moment  steadily  into  the 
eyes  of  Gladwyn,  whose  face  was  paler  than  usual,  but  firm 
of  expression,  spoke  as  follows  : 

"  The  Chief  of  the  Ottawas  has  but  few  words  for  the  ear 
of  the  servant  of  the  English  King.  But  these  shall  be  the 
words  of  truth.  The  tongue  that,  says  one  thing  while  the 
heart  means  another  has  been  heard  between  us  until  we  are 
ashamed  of  ourselves,  and  our  eyes  wander  from  the  faces  we 
are  trying  to  deceive.  Two  thousand  warriors  are  in  the 
woods  within  sight  of  the  smoke  of  Detroit.  They  have 
come  to  push  the  English  from  the  place  they  have  stolen. 
Deliver  up  the  fort,  go  back  to  your  own  people,  and  the 
word  of  Pontiac  will  keep  you  and  your  young  men  from 
harm  on  the  way.  AVhat  has  my  brother  to  say  ?  " 

Gladwyn  stood  silent  a  few  moments,  as  one  who  is  trying 
to  reflect  upon  the  bearing  of  an  unexpected  proposition. 
Then,  in  a  low  and  distinct  voice,  and  a  calm  and  determined 
manner,  he  said  : 

"  The  great  chief  of  the  Ottawas  is  angry,  and  knows  not 
what  he  asks.  A  bad  spirit  has  got  between  my  brother  and 
the  light,  and  would  lead  his  people  to  destruction.  They 
sold  this  land  to  the  French,  and  received  the  price.  The 
French  King  went  to  Avar  with  the  English  and  was  con. 


A  TALE  OF  THE  WARS  OF  PONTIAC.        87 

quered.  A  great  council  was  held,  and  a  treaty  of  peace 
made,  in  which  all  this  country  claimed  by  the  French,  and 
held  by  them,  was  yielded  up  to  my  people,  and —  " 

Here  Pontiac,  whose  impatient  rage  at  the  claims  of  Glad- 
wyn  had  given  him  the  look  of  a  demon  during  these 
brief  words,  threw  his  blanket  from  his  shoulders,  and  with 
a  majesty  of  mien  that  seemed  of  inspiration,  strode  close  in 
front  of  his  adversary,  and  with  arm  outstretched  toward 
heaven,  and  eye  turned  upon  his  followers,  exclaimed  : 

"  The  tongue  of  the  Englishman  is  the  tongue  of  a  liar, 
and  should  be  torn  out  by  the  roots.  There  never  was  a 
time,  since  the  Great  Spirit  made  the  world,  and  gave  this 
heritage  to  his  red  children,  in  which  our  fathers  have  not 
been  in  the  possession  of  the  country,  its  woods,  its  lakes, 
and  the  great  plains  on  which  no  trees  grow.  The  French 
man  came,  not  many  moons  since,  and  the  red  man  gave  him 
lands  on  which  to  hunt,  and  waters  in  which  to  fish.  They 
were  his  only  at  the  will  of  our  people.  We  had  more  than 
we  needed,  and  the  Great  Manito  of  the  red  man  told  us  to 
receive  the  white  strangers  as  our  brothers.  The  French 
King  came,  not  with  guns  to  command,  but  with  tongue  to 
request.  The  chain  of  friendship  was  held  by  a  red  hand  at 
the  north,  and  a  white  hand  at  the  south.  There  was  blood 
upon  neither,  and  all  the  links  were  brightened  in  the  rays 
of  peace.  The  Englishman  came,  like  a  wolf  among  deer, 
and  stirred  up  strife  between  us.  He  lied  to  our  young  men, 
and  they  went  on  the  war  path  against  their  friends  at 
Quebec.  Then  at  last,  the  cunning  Englishman  came  in 
and  laid  claim  upon  all  the  country,  while  its  true  owners 
were  weakened  like  children,  with  the  loss  of  blood." 

Then  turning  full  upon  Gladwyn,  the  aroused  savage 
rather  yelled  than  spoke  : 

"Yes,  liar,  with  the  double   tongue,  you   came   here   as 


88         A  TALE  OF  THE  WARS  OF  POXTIAC. 

wanderers  and  beggars,  and  now  you  would  remain  as  con 
querors  and  owners ! " 

Then  wheeling  slowly  around  upon  the  circle  of  his  war 
riors,  he  continued : 

"  And  now  what  is  to  be  done  with  these  prisoners  f  " 

In  an  instant  each  warrior  leaped  to  his  feet,  a  glittering 
knife  gleamed  in  each  hand,  held  far  above  the  head,  while 
the  startled  echoes  of  the  forest  responded  from  its  depths  to 
yells,  such  as  no  human  ear  ever  heard  from  human  throats, 
other  than  those  of  North  American  savages  when  aroused  to 
a  carnival  of  blood. 

The  treacherous  chief  gazed  a  few  moments  proudly  upon 
his  ferocious  followers,  who  intently  watched  his  every  mo 
tion,  expectant  of  the  signal  that  was  to  let  loose  their  fury 
upon  the  pale  but  unflinching  prisoners.  He  raised  his 
hand,  and  every  Indian  replaced  his  scalping-knife,  and  sank 
slowly  down  upon  the  ground. 

"  An  Ottawa  never  sheds  blood  in  his  council  lodge,  unless 
his  enemies  are  equal  in  numbers.  The  English  captain 
will  remain.  His  young  men  can  go." 

In  an  instant  the  savages  gathered  around  the  three  officers 
who  had  accompanied  their  commander,  and  hurried  them 
out  of  the  lodge.  They  had  scarcely  disappeared,  leaving 
Pontiac  and  Gladwyn  alone,  when 

"  At  once  there  rose  so  wild  a  yell, 
As  if  all  the  fiends  from  Heaven  that  fell, 
Had  pealed  the  battle  cry  of  hell !  " 

The  shrill  screams  of  the  squaws  and  children,  mingled  with 
the  hoarse  howls  of  the  warriors,  and  the  low  groans  of 
mortal  agony  that  filled  the  lull  in  the  yells  of  the  demons, 
told  but  too  plainly,  to  the  wretched  English  captain,  the 
fate  of  his  companions. 


A   TALE   OF   THE   WARS   OF   PONTIAC.  89 

In  a  few  moments  a  gigantic  savage,  with  face  smeared  with 
blood  and  brains,  entered  the  lodge.  It  was  Wawatam,  the 
Ojibwa  envoy  of  the  morning.  Without  a  word,  he  ap 
proached  Pontiac,  and  throwing  down  a  matted  and  bloody 
mass  at  the  feet  of  the  chief,  departed  as  silently  as  he  had  ap 
proached. 

Maddened  beyond  all  bounds  of  moral  restraint  at  the  sight 
of  the  bleeding  scalps  of  his  faithful  comrades  of  fort  and 
field,  Gladwyn  turned  to  the  Ottawa  chief,  with  dauntless  and 
defiant  mien,  and  in  measured  and  unfaltering  tones,  said : 

"  The  blood  of  the  slain — murdered  treacherously  in  a 
council  of  peace — be  upon  the  head  of  Pontiac  and  his  people. 
Henceforth  I  will  hunt  his  warriors,  his  squaws,  and  his  chil 
dren,  as  wolves  and  their  cubs  are  hunted,  without  mercy. 
On  the  waters,  in  the  wilderness,  wrherever  an  Ottawa  or  his 
allies  paddles  a  canoe  or  erects  a  lodge,  will  the  bullets  of  the 
English  seek  victims,  until  none  are  left  for  the  chase  or  the 
war  path.  I  swear  this  before  the  murderer  of  my  comrades !" 

Ere  these  words  had  hardly  left  the  tongue  that  uttered 
them,  Pontiac  sprang  with  a  bound  in  front  of  the  English 
man,  with  tomahawk  uplifted  above  his  head.  The  face  of 
the  savage  was  distorted  with  a  hellish  rage,  such  as  no  painter 
ever  drew,  or  no  sculptor  ever  wrought !  The  captive  quailed 
not  for  an  instant,  but  met  the  demoniac  gaze  of  the  warrior, 
with  an  eye  as  fearless,  if  not  as  baleful,  as  his  own. 

The  twro  thus  confronted  each  other  for  the  space  of  a  min 
ute,  and  the  Indian  slowly  lowered  his  weapon,  and  returned 
it  to  his  girdle.  The  intensity  of  his  ferocious  look  was  re 
laxed,  but  its  unrelenting  determination  was  still  there,  as  he 
exclaimed : 

"  The  white  warrior  is  brave,  but  he  has  no  strength,  and 
his  words  are  the  words  of  a  woman.  There  are  many  trees 
between  Detroit  and  the  great  lakes,  with  a  warrior  of  my  peo- 

F 


90  A   TALE   OF   THE   WARS   OF   POXTIAC. 

pie  behind  each.  The  English  captain  forgets  himself.  He- 
will  go  no  more  upon  the  war  path.  When  the  sun  lifts  the 
darkness  from  the  river  in  the  morning,  so  that  the  eyes  of 
my  people  can  know  what  their  hands  do,  the  white  chief 
dies.  The  squaws  and  children  of  Pontiac  are  now  gathering1 
the  wood  that  will  consume  him  in  its  fires.  My  people  will 
see  if  a  warrior  of  the  English  King  can  boast  so  bravely  in 
the  flames  as  in  the  council  chamber." 

The  chief  paused,  and  uttered  a  low  gutteral  sound.  In 
stantly  two  savages  entered  and  approached  Gladwyn,  and  led 
him  to  a  stake  firmly  driven  in  the  ground,  by  one  corner  ot 
the  lodge.  They  then  proceeded  to  tie  his  hands  and  feef 
securely  to  the  post,  with  thongs  of  deer  skin,  in  such  a 
manner  that  he  was  forced  to  stand  upright,  without  the 
power  to  change,  in  the  least,  his  position.  This  accom 
plished,  Pontiac  and  the  two  Indians  departed,  leaving  the 
victim  alone. 

Slowly  the  sun  sank  down  behind  the  deep,  dark  forests  of 
the  western  horizon,  and  the  twilight  came  on,  and  thickened 
into  night.  The  silent  stars  came  forth  one  by  one,  and  took 
up  their  appointed  places  in  the  vault  of  eternity.  The  giant 
trees  bent  their  tops  toward  each  other,  as  the  wind  wrestled 
with  their  foliage,  and  whispered  of  the  centuries  that  had 
fled  since  they  were  saplings  in  the  soil. 

The  young  English  soldier  was  still  alone,  in  the  painful 
bonds  of  his  captors.  But  the  agony  of  thought  deadened 
his  physical  sufferings.  He  knew  that  Pontiac  was  the  blood 
iest  and  most  unrelenting  of  his  fierce  race,  and  that  his  many 
great  wrongs  had  driven  him  into  a  mood  of  ferocious  in 
sanity.  He  had  never  yet  betrayed  the  confidence  reposed  in 
him  by  the  French,  but  from  the  English  his  people  had  only 
received  outrage  and  injustice.  He  revenged  himself  accor- 


A   TALE   OF   THE   WARS   OF   PONTIAC.  91 

ding  to  his  Indian  nature,  which  was  tireless  in  pursuit,  and 
merciless  in  execution. 

The  young  soldier  was  a  bound  captive  in  the  wilderness  of 
the  New  World,  and  the  silent  shadow  of  Death  was  creeping 
in  upon  him.  But  his  thoughts  were  not  of  himself.  They 
were  wandering  over  the  broad  expanse  of  forest  and  river,  of 
mountain  and  prairie,  over  across  three  thousand  miles  of 
watery  waste  to  the  little  cot  on  the  banks  of  the  Severn,  that 
held  all  most  dear  to  him  of  earth — his  widowed  mother,  his 
only  sister.  It  was  hard  to  die  thus,  so  young,  so  strong,  so 
wedded  to  life  by  all  the  ties  that  make  the  most  courageous 
natures  shrink  from  the  dread  silence  of  the  grave.  Anon 
the  current  of  his  thoughts  returned  to  his  present  surround 
ings,  and  the  sad  face  of  the  daughter  of  Pontiac  looked  up 
out  of  his  vision.  Was  she  safe  ?  Had  she  escaped  the  de 
tection  and  the  vengeance  of  her  father  ? 

The  big  tears  welled  up  into  the  eyes  of  the  young  soldier, 
and  dropped,  "  pat,"  "  pat,"  "  pat,"  upon  the  dry  leaves  amid 
which  he  stood.  When  hope  has  deserted  one  in  the  hour  of 
dire  extremity,  memory  softens  the  hardest  heart  into  the 
weakness  of  a  child. 

A  slight  noise  outside  now  came  to  the  acute  ear  of  the 
captive,  and  on  the  instant  two  stalwart  Indians  entered. 
One  was  Wawatam,  the  Ojibwa,  and  the  other  a  favorite 
young  chief  of  Pontiac.  Each  was  armed  with  gun,  pistols, 
and  scalping  knife.  They  advanced  toward  Gladwyn  and 
closely  examined  his  bonds.  Satisfied  with  the  scrutiny,  the 
young  savage  sat  down  upon  the  ground  within  a  few  feet  of 
the  prisoner,  while  the  Ojibwa  went  outside  and  took  up  a 
position  at  the  door.  Not  a  word  had  been  spoken. 

Slowly  the  hours  waned  on.  Midnight  had  approached., 
and  all  sounds  had  ceased  in  the  Indian  encampment. 

In  an  hour  thereafter,  a  form  dimly  seen  in  the  darkness,. 


92  A   TALE   OF   THE   WARS   OF   PONTIAC. 

slowly,  and  without  the  least  sound  from  the  yielding  sand, 
snaking  its  way  along  toward  a  clump  of  bushes  that  stood  at 
one  corner  of  the  chamber,  and  between  the  sentinel  and  the 
approaching  object.  Whatever  the  mysterious  creature  was, 
man  or  animal,  it  evidently  meant  mischief.  When  the  back 
of  the  Indian  was  turned,  the  stealthy  object  would  make  a 
rapid  advance,  and  when  the  former  again  faced  the  river,  the 
latter  would  lay  prone  among  the  surrounding  logs,  from 
which  it  could  not  be  distinguished.  At  last  the  clump  of 
bushes  was  reached,  and  the  creature  lay  still  within  the  cover. 

In  about  fifteen  minutes  more,  a  light  form,  closely  wrapped 
in  a  blanket,  advanced  out  of  the  darkness  into  the  dim  light 
of  the  fire  that  smouldered  near  the  spot  where  the  sentinel 
now  squatted  upon  the  sand.  The  savage  started  to  his  feet, 
leveled  his  gun,  and  uttered  a  low  sound.  A  whispered  re 
sponse,  and  the  chief  lowered  his  weapon,  resumed  his  seat, 
and  the  form  passed  into  the  council  chamber.  The  young 
warrior  within  uttered  an  ejaculation  of  surprise. 

Gladwyn  looked  up.     Lac  la  Belle  stood  before  him  ! 

An  expression  of  joy  lit  up  the  pale  features  of  the  En 
glishman,  as  he  recognized  the  maiden,  which  was  about  to 
express  itself  in  words,  when  with  a  quick  and  intelligent 
gesture,  she  imposed  silence.  Then  she  approached  the  senti 
nel,  took  his  hand,  looked  up  in  his  face  with  a  beseeching 
smile,  and  said : 

"  Miantanoba,  listen.  You  have  told  me  that  you  loved 
the  daughter  of  Pontiac.  Release  the  English  captain,  and 
she  promises  to  fly  with  you  wherever  you  may  direct,  and  be 
the  wife  of  your  wigwam.  Lac  la  Belle  swears  this,  and  the 
Great  Spirit  hears  her." 

Wawatam,  without,  had  his  ear  to  a  crevice  between  the 
logs,  and  was  listening  intently. 

The  young  chief  within  replied  to  the  Indian  maiden  : 


A   TALE   OF   THE   WARS   OF   POXTIAC.  93 

"  Lac  la  Belle  loves  the  Englishman,  and  it  is  for  his  sake 
that  she  will  become  the  wife  of  Miantanoba.  The  dog  shall 
die." 

"  The  white  chief  has  been  kind  to  the  Indian  girl,"  replied 
the  maiden,  "and  she  would  save  him.  This  is  all  she  can 
say.  The  time  is  short.  Will  Miantanoba  listen  to  my 
words?" 

Wawatam  pressed  his  ear  closer  to  the  aperture,  and  his 
face  was  distorted  with  a  horrible  ferocity. 

"  The  dog  shall  die,"  repeated  the  young  Indian,  "  and  Lac 
la  Belle  will  be  the  wife  of  Miantanoba,  or  Pontiac  shall 
know  that  she  loves  the  Englishman,  and  betrayed  her 
people." 

The  Indian  turned  away  from  the  suppliant.  Quick  as 
lightning  she  drew  a  long  knife  from  the  folds  of  her  blanket, 
and  struck  its  glittering  blade  deep  into  the  heart  of  the  sav 
age.  He  reeled  a  moment,  clutched  at  his  tomahawk,  and 
fell  dead. 

A  loud  yell  from  the  Ojibwa  startled  the  sleeping  echoes  of 
the  surrounding  forests  to  their  depths  for  miles.  But  ere 
that  wild  cry  could  be  repeated,  a  dark  object  leaped  up  from 
the  ground,  seized  the  gigantic  warrior  by  his  long  scalp  lock, 
bent  his  head  back,  and  drew  a  sharp  knife  across  his  throat, 
nearly  severing  the  head  from  the  body. 

"  Blast  yer  durned  red  hide,  stop  that  hollerin' !"  exclaimed 
the  trapper,  as  the  huge  savage  lay  squirming  and  gasping  at 
his  feet. 

With  a  single  bound  the  trapper  cleared  the  dying  form  of 
his  enemy  and  stood  within  the  enclosure.  Lac  la  Belle  had 
already  cut  the  thongs  that  had  [bound  her  lover,  but  his  be 
numbed  limbs  refused  the  efforts  of  his  will,  and  the  captive 
had  sank  to  the  ground.  In  an  instant  the  trapper  seized  the 


94  A   TALE   OF   THE   WARS   OF    PONTIAC. 

prostrate  form  and  swung  it  to  his  shoulder,  as  though  it  had 
but  the  weight  of  an  infant. 

"  Gal,  quick,  lead  the  way  to  the  river,"  he  whispered,  and 
the  two  were  soon  in  rapid  flight  in  that  direction. 

Scarce  a  minute  had  elapsed  from  the  war  whoop  of  the 
Ojibwa,  to  the  release  of  the  Englishman,  and  yet  th  ewhole 
encampment  was  alarmed,  and  wild  yells  and  hurrying  feet 
oould  be  heard  through  the  darkness.  Pontiac  was  the  first 
to  hear  the  death  cry  of  the  sentinel,  and  leaping  from 
his  couch,  sought  to  grasp  his  gun.  But  it  was  gone !  He 
shouted  for  his  daughter.  She  was  not  there !  The  chief 
gave  a  prolonged  yell  of  rage,  grasped  his  bow  and  a 
sheaf  of  arrows  that  lay  in  a  corner  of  the  lodge,  and  rushed 
out  toward  the  council  chamber. 

The  Indians  had  evidently  mistaken  the  cause  of  this  night 
alarm.  They  naturally  supposed  that  a  rescuing  party  from 
the  fort  had  been  discovered  by  the  sentinels,  and  were  run 
ning  in  every  direction,  the  darkness  adding  to  their  confusion. 

Pontiac,  followed  by  a  few  chiefs,  entered  the  council  cham 
ber.  The  dead  body  of  the  sentinel,  and  the  blanket  of  Lac 
la  Belle  close  by  the  stake  to  which  the  Englishman  had  been 
bound,  told  the  story. 

As  the  truth  flooded  fully  upon  the  understanding  of  the 
fierce  savage,  the  agony  depicted  upon  his  distorted  features 
was  fearful  to  look  upon.  He  seemed  like  a  demon  paralyzed 
with  rage.  His  breast  heaved,  and  sobs  and  groanings  issued 
therefrom.  He  clutched  his  throat,  like  one  strangling  with 
his  emotions.  The  hated  enemy  of  his  race  escaped,  and  his 
daughter  the  betrayer  of  her  people !  All  his  plans,  all  his 
hopes  thwarted  in  a  moment. 

This  scene  lasted  but  a  few  seconds.  A  succession  of  loud 
yells,  followed  by  the  discharge  of  several  guns  in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  canoes,  awakened  the  chief  from  his  delirium  of 


A   TALE   OF   THE   WARS   OP   PONTIAC.  95 

rage  and  despair.  With  the  leap  of  a  deer  he  cleared  the 
threshold  of  the  cabin,  and  sped  away  toward  the  river. 
Hundreds  of  his  warriors  had  here  gathered,  and  were  run 
ning  up  and  down  like  infuriated  madmen.  Dimly  seen  in 
the  far  darkness  of  the  river  were  the  outlines  of  a  single  canoe, 
from  which  came  the  occasional  splash  of  a  paddle.  All  the 
rest  of  the  fleet  had  been  cut  adrift  long  before  the  alarm,  for 
none  but  the  one  that  was  propelled  toward  the  opposite  shore 
was  in  sight ! 

But  the  quick  eye  of  Pontiac  soon  discovered  a  boat  about 
fifty  yards  distant,  which  had  been  caught  in  the  eddy  of  a 
rock.  Without  a  word  he  plunged  into  the  water,  his  weapon 
at  his  back.  A  few  moments  sufficed  to  place  the  desperate 
chief  in  possession  of  the  canoe,  and  the  chase  began. 

The  foremost  boat  had  now  got  beyond  the  dark  shadows 
which  the  tall  forest  had  thrown  upon  the  waters.  In  its 
prow  could  be  seen  the  daughter  of  Pontiac,  with  the  head  of 
Gladwyn  resting  upon  her  knees.  In  the  stern  sat  the  trap 
per,  with  skilled  hand  at  the  paddle. 

The  old  man  was  chuckling  all  over  with  suppressed  glee, 
at  an  adventure  he  had  evidently  commenced  relating  to  ears 
that  heard  not,  for  he  continued : 

"  Yes,  cap'in,  its  a  mighty  handy  thing  to  have  a  file  some 
where  about  your  clothes,  when  you  happen  to  drift  among 
people  who  keep  dog  chains  for  white  men,  and  then  go  oif 
alone  to  palaver  with  red  Injins.  Not  that  I  blame  you  for 
goin'  acordin'  to  your  bringin'  up.  Some  folks  never  larn 
anything,  ony  what  they  got  to  home.  Sich  hev  no  bisness 
in  the  woods,  specially  when  Injins  are  about.  Cap'in,  what's 
your  ' pinion  of  < Christian  warfare/  jist  about  this  time? 
Thet  skelp  of  yourn  aint  jist  safe  yet,  but  you  will  hev  time 
to  give  your  'pinion  upon  ( Christian  warfare '  before  that  red 
-devil  oif  yonder  ketches  up  with  us." 


96  A   TALE   OF   THE   WARS    OF   POXTIAC. 

The   trapper   here   paused   again   to  indulge  in   another 
chuckle,  which  he  seemed  to  enjoy  amazingly. 

"  Well,  Cap'in,"  he  resumed,  "that  sentinel  of  yourn  went 
off  into  a  doze  like,  and  then  I  begun  to  snore  like  a  drunken 
Frenchman.  Bimeby  he  snored  too,  natural  like.  I  had 
spjjed  your  dog  chain  afore  dark,  while  that  chap  had  gone  to 
git  his  rashuns.  And  so,  when  I  knowed  there  warn't  no 
make  Vlieve  about  that  snore  of  his'n,  I  jist  snapped  the 
durn'd  link  close  to  my  ankle,  jumped  squar  over  his  head, 
knocked  down  the  feller  outside  the  door,  and  went  over  the 
stockade  like  an  Injin  thief  in  the  night,  swum  the  river, 
and  you  and  your  gal  knows  the  rest.  Cap'in,  you  won't  be 
mean  enough  to  chain  a  feller  up  agin  for  this,  on  '  Christian 
warfare '  rules,  if  I  git  you  and  the  gal  back  agin,  safe  to  the 
fort,  will  you?" 

The  trapper  fairly  laughed  outright  at  the  conclusion  of 
his  remarks,  for  the  humor  of  the  thing  seemed  so  irresistible. 
So  absorbed  had  he  become  in  the  recital  of  his  escape  from 
the  fort,  and  in  avenging  his  wrongs  in  quiet  sarcasm  at  the 
author  of  them,  that  he  had  began  to  relax  his  efforts  at  the 
paddle,  and  had,  in  a  manner,  withdrawn  his  attention  from 
the  pursuit.  All  of  a  sudden  the  deep  clouds  over  head 
parted,  and  the  full  moon  came  forth  and  illumined  the  entire 
bed  of  the  river.  The  trapper  looked  hurriedly  around. 
The  canoe  of  Pontiac  was  less  than  thirty  yards  in  the  rear. 
The  trapper  now  made  a  desperate  effort  to  increase  the  dis 
tance,  when  the  paddle  snapped  short  off  in  his  hands  ! 

"  Curse  my  babbling  tongue,"  he  exclaimed,  and  his  whole 
nature  seemed  to  change  at  once.  He  answered  the  triumph 
ant  yell  which  Pontiac  had  uttered  on  being  discovered,  by  a 
shout  of  defiance  which  echoed  over  the  waters,  and  was  even 
sent  back  from  the  defences  of  the  fort,  now  plainly  visible  in 
the  moonlight. 


A   TALE   OF   THE   WARS   OF   PONTIAC.  97 

"  Am  I  a  fool  from  the  great  cities,  that  I  prattle  like  a 
boy,  when  I  should  be  silent  and  watchful  over  the  lives  that 
are  in  my  keeping/'  he  yelled,  starting  to  his  feet,  and  look 
ing  around  vainly  for  a  weapon. 

"  Not  even  a  knife,77  he  bitterly  muttered,  "  and  a  helpless 
man,  and  a  feeble  girl  to  be  murdered  before  my  eyes,  unless 
I  am  killed  first,  which  I  pray  God  may  happen.77 

lie  was  interrupted  by  a  scream  from  the  Indian  girl,  as 
she  sprang  up,  and  threw  herself  in  front  of  the  young  Eng 
lishman.  At  the  same  instant  an  arrow  whizzed  past  the 
trapper,  and  found  lodgment  in  the  breast  ot  Lac  la  Belle. 

Pontiac  stood  in  the  prow  of  his  canoe,  his  splendid  form 
clearly  revealed  in  the  moonlight,  gazing  intently  ahead  in  an 
effort  to  ascertain  the  effect  of  his  shot. 

"  It  is  well,77  he  murmured,  in  a  sad  tone.  "  The  arrow 
was  aimed  at  another,  but  the  Great  Spirit  directed  its  flight 
to  the  heart  of  her  who  would  die  for  one  of  the  accursed 
race.  The  daughter  of  Pontiac  will  soon  be  no  more,  but  the 
Englishman,  for  whom  she  betrayed  her  people,  shall  go  with 
her.77 

The  savage  deliberately  placed  another  arrow  to  his  bow, 
but  ere  he  could  draw  the  string,  the  sound  of  cannon  rang 
from  the  fort,  a  number  of  balls  splashed  the  water  close  to 
the  boats,  the  canoe  of  Pontiac  was  knocked  to  pieces,  and 
left  the  chief  struggling  in  the  water.  At  the  same  instant 
a  boat  filled  with  soldiers  came  in  full  view,  and  with  a  few 
more  strokes  of  the  oar  was  along  side  of  the  one  that  con 
tained  the  fugitives. 

A  few  seconds  sufficed  for  a  hurried  explanation,  the  canoe 
was  fastened  to  the  boat  of  the  rescuing  party,  which  had,  by 
this  time,  turned  its  prow  toward  the  fort.  Neither  Gladwyn 
nor  the  trapper  was  aware  that  the  fatal  arrow  of  Pontiac 
had  found  lodgment  in  the  bosom  of  his  daughter.  She  sat 


98  A   TALE   OF   THE   WARS   OF   PONTIAC. 

with  her  face  bent  downward  upon  her  knees,  and  paid  no 
attention  to  what  was  going  on  around  her. 

As  the  boat  rounded  for  the  shore,  the  trapper  leaned  over 
to  one  of  the  soldiers  and  whispered : 

"  Red  coat,  jist,  accidentally  like,  hand  me  that  smooth 
bore  of  yourn.  There  is  a  murderin'  redskin  a  paddlin' 
around  out  yonder,  that  wants  a  leetle  help  in  his  diffikilty. 
It  is  a  shame  to  see  a  feller  creter  drown,  when  an  ounce  of 
lead  could  save  him." 

The  Indian  maiden  raised  her  head  quickly,  and  said : 

"  The  white  hunter  may  have  a  daughter  among  his  own 
people.  He  will  spare  the  life  of  the  father  of  Lac  la  Belle  ?" 

At  the  sound  of  her  voice,  Gladwyn  aroused  himself  from 
his  stupor  and  putting  his  hand  upon  the  arm  of  the  trapper, 
said,  in  his  old  tone  of  command : 

"  Man,  you  have  saved  my  life,  and  what  there  is  in  my 
power  to  bestow  upon  you  is  for  you  to  ask,  or  accept.  But 
if  you  take  the  life  of  the  chief,  you  shall  die  on  the  instant." 

"  "Well !"  said  the  trapper,  with  a  look  of  indignant  amaze 
ment,  "what  next?  This  gosl in-hearted  boy  would  hvae 
been  roasted  alive  before  noon  to  day,  and  the  red  devil  who 
would  hev  lit  the  fire,  is  still  within  reach  of  a  good  aim,  and 
not  one  of  these  fellers  dare  hand  me  a  gun  !  A  little  more 
of  this  '  Christian  warfare/  and  there  won't  be  a  white  scalp 
left  on  its  owner's  head,  between  Detroit  and  Huron.  It's 
about  time  that  Joe  Lukens  went  back  to  the  settlements,  and 
joined  the  Methodists,  or  put  on  a  petticoat  and  hired  hisself 
out  to  nuss  young  niggers  on  the  Virginia  plantations !" 

Thus  muttering,  the  trapper  seated  himself,  with  a  look  of 
inexpressible  disgust,  but  his  feelings  were  too  powerful  for 
continued  silence. 

"  I  can't  say  I  blame  the  gal.  The  bloody  heathen  was 
her  father,  and  wimming  miter'  is  the  same,  in  the  woods,  or 


A   TALE   OF   THE   WAES   OP   PONTIAC.  99 

In  the  cities.  I  couldn't  hev  killed  the  cuss,  arter  she  spoke 
so  pleading  like,  onless  he'd  a  hed  his  infernal  knife  at  my 
own  throat.  But  as  for  that  brat  of  an  English  cap'in," — 

The  grating  of  the  boat  upon  the  gravelly  shore,  and  the 
immediate  preparations  for  landing,  cut  short  the  unfinished 
giowlings  of  the  angry  trapper.  A  dozen  soldiers,  with  pine 
torches  in  their  hands,  and  anxious  inquiry  in  their  faces,  stood 
ready  to  receive  their  comrades.  At  the  sight  of  their  com 
mander  and  his  two  companions,  the  main  facts  of  the  case 
were  at  once  comprehended,  and  cheer  after  cheer  rent  the 
general  silence.  These  were  taken  up  by  a  hundred  throats 
within  the  fort,  and  in  defiance  of  all  discipline  and  danger, 
the  whole  garrison — men,  women,  and  children,  rushed  fran 
tically  down  to  the  landing. 

By  this  time  Gladwyn  had  nearly  recovered  from  his  dazed 
bewilderment,  and  began  to  issue  his  orders  with  something 
of  his  old  soldierly  spirit.  He  released  the  hand  of  the  In 
dian  maiden,  which  up  to  this  time  he  had  held  closely  in  his 
own,  though  neither  had  spoken  to  the  other  from  the  com 
mencement  of  the  fearful  adventure  to  its  close,  and  with  the 
assistance  of  a  soldier,  stepped  upon  the  shore.  He  turned 
and  addressed  Lac  la  Belle  in  a  soft  and  tender  voice  : 

"  The  preserver  of  my  life  will  arise  and  come  into  the  fort, 
where  I  can  thank  her  devoted  heroism  and  loving  regard,  as 
I  cannot  do  here." 

The  girl  stirred  not,  and  made  no  sign.  But  in  the 
now  hushed  silence,  her  stifled  breathing,  and  low  choking 
sobs,  could  be  distinctly  heard.  The  soldiers,  who  had 
crowded  round,  looked  wonderingly  into  each  other's  faces  for 
explanation  of  the  sad  and  touching  behavior  of  the  maiden. 

A  loud  exclamation — almost  a  shriek — fell  from  the  lips  of 
the  trapper,  who,  since  the  boat  touched,  had  sat  in  sullen 
silence  upon  the  bottom  of  the  canoe. 


100  A   TALE   OF   THE   WARS   OF   PONTIAC. 

"  The  arrow — the  gal  is  dying  !"  he  gasped  out,  and,  spring 
ing  to  his  feet,  he  lifted  her  up  gently  in  his  arms,  stepped 
ashore,  and  strode  rapidly  through  the  parted  crowd  toward 
the  fort. 

Gladwyn  caught  the  exclamation,  and  knew  at  once  its 
dread  import.  He  stood  a  moment  like  one  from  whom  life 
had  suddenly  departed,  uttered  a  suppressed  moan,  and  then,, 
assisted  by  a  soldier  on  either  side,  tottered  on  in  the  direction 
of  the  others. 

Lac  la  Belle  lay  upon  a  bed,  the  rude  trapper  kneeling 
beside  her,  sobbing  like  an  infant.  The  surgeon  was  in  at 
tendance,  and  had  extracted  the  arrow,  just  as  Gladwyn  stag 
gered  into  the  room.  He  motioned  for  the  soldiers  who  had 
crowded  around,  to  leave.  Then  there  were  none  by  the  bed 
side  of  the  dying  girl,  save  the  commander,  the  surgeon,  and 
the  trapper. 

"  There  is  no  hope,"  whispered  the  surgeon,  in  answer  to 
an  imploring  look  from  the  young  officer. 

Gladwyn  approached  the  bed,  bent  over  the  silent  sufferer,, 
and  pressed  his  lips  fondly  to  hers.  The  maiden  slowly 
opened  her  eyes,  a  tender,  loving  smile  illuminated  her  face- 
She  feebly  raised  her  arms,  entwined  them  about  the  neck  of 
her  lover,  and  drew  his  face  down  upon  her  bosom.  A  few 
moments  thus  passed  in  silence,  when  the  surgeon  stepped 
forward,  and  softly  released  the  clasp  of  the  girl. 

"  This  will  not  do,"  he  whispered  into  the  ear  of  Gladwyn. 
"  Her  time  is  but  brief,  and  she  may  have  something  impor 
tant  to  say  before  she  departs." 

Gladwyn  raised  himself  to  his  feet.  His  vest  was  clotted 
with  blood — the  blood  of  the  dying. 

At  this  moment  a  Jesuit  missionary,  who  had  just  arrived 
at  the  fort,  glided  into  the  room. 


A   TALE   OF   THE   WARS   OF   PONTIAC.  101 

The  trapper  still  knelt  as  at  first,  but  gave  no  sign.  Not  a 
sound  escaped  him. 

Gladwyn  again  bent  over  the  maiden,  and  in  a  whisper 
choked  by  emotion,  asked  her  if  she  had  any  request  to  make. 

The  question  seemed  instantly  to  revive  her.  In  a  low 
voice  she  said : 

"  It  may  be  a  wild  and  foolish  wish.  I  know  that  my 
spirit  is  passing  away,  or  I  would  not  say  the  words.  Will 
the  white  chief-  make  the  daughter  of  Pontiac  his  wife,  after 
the  custom  of  his  own  people  ?" 

Instantly  Gladwyn  knelt  down,  took  the  girl's  hand  in  his 
own,  and  motioned  to  the  priest. 

And  there  in  the  hour  and  article  of  death,  these  two 
beings  were  pledged  to  each  other  in  marriage,  and  the  mis 
sionary  pronounced  a  benediction  upon  their  union. 

Then  the  soldier  arose  to  his  feet,  softly  lifted  the  head  of 
his  wife  from  the  pillow,  and  laid  his  cheek  against  hers. 
She  threw  her  arms  about  his  neck,  and  with  a  look  of  in 
effable  happiness  whispered : 

"Husband!" 

Her  head  fell  back.  Gladwyn  looked  into  her  face  and 
littered  a  low  cry. 

Lac  la  Belle  had  died  in  his  arms. 


MY  FIRST  HUNT  IN  MY  NEW  HOME. 


I  HAD  congratulated  myself  that  the  "  Old  Settler  "  did  not 
deceive  a  credulous  emigrant  when  he  assured  me  that 
the  weather  here  in  Northern  Michigan,  owing  to  the  mild 
influence  of  the  lake,  was  of  about  the  same  temperature  in 
winter  as  in  New  Jersey.  In  great  peace  of  mind  I  rested 
in  this  delusion  until  that  great  day  of  the  heart,  Christmas, 
came,  with  its  simple  blessings  and  enjoyments  to  the  lonely 
and  neglected  children  of  our  wilderness  world.  But  on  the 
evening  of  that  day  the  scales  fell  from  my  eyes,  and  icicles 
took  their  places.  An  unusual  roaring  of  the  great  lake,  and 
a  prolonged  irregular  moaning  of  the  winds,  heralded  the 
gathering  elemental  agitation.  The  North  Pole  was  evidently 
stirring  up  the  animals.  And  now  a  continuous  roar  in  the 
forest  told  me  that  Boreas  had  stripped  himself  to  an  extra 
effort.  His  icy  breath  gathered  fresh  volume  with  each  in 
halation.  The  snow  came  down  in  blinding  sheets  of  drift, 
which  were  caught  up  by  the  angry  gale,  and  hurled  back 
to  the  clouds  from  whence  they  had  been  cast  forth.  Fantas 
tic  shapes  and  wierd  devices  were  in  the  instant  designed  and 
sculptured  upon  my  cabin  window 

"By  the  elfin  fingers  of  the  Frost." 

Iii  brief,  it  came  on  the  coldest  night  I  ever  experienced,  and 
how  I  survived  to  give  it  this  historic  record  puzzles  my  yet 
imthawed  understanding. 


MY    FIEST   HUNT   IN   MY   NEW   HOME.  103 

But  the  "  Old  Settler,"  with  the  proverbial  honesty  of  his 
race,  assures  me  that  in  the  fifteen  years  he  has  lived  on  the 
Lake  Shore,  he  never  knew  as  cold  a  winter  as  the  present. 
Doubtless  he  asseverated  the  same  thing  to  my  predecessor 
last  year  this  time,  and  will  continue  to  unwind  the  same  yarn 
to  the  next  newcomer,  unless,  as  I  fervently  hope,  he  may 
be  suddenly  cut  off  and  that  without  remedy. 

"  But  what  has  all  this  wordy,  windy,  inappropo  introduc 
tory  to  do  with  the  subject  matter  suggested  by  your  heading?7' 

It  is  a  provoked  inquiry,  O  justifiable  interrupter,  and 
shall  be  truly  and  unreservedly  answered : 

Nothing !  only  nothing,  and  nothing  more.  But  it  was 
packed  atop  my  mental  hamper,  and  had  to  be  unloaded  ere 
the  true  matter  could  be  reached. 

And  thus,  like  a  camel  re-assured  by  the  removal  of  a  har- 
rassing  burden,  I  proceed  with  renewed  pace  through  the 
desert  of  my  destination.  I  will  now  give  you  a  faithful 
compilation  of  my  first  hunting  expedition  in  these  gorgeous 
wilds. 

From  childhood  I  was  a  mighty  hunter — in  imagination. 
Western  border  adventure  constituted  my  chief  reading,  and 
Leather  Stocking  was  my  ideal  of  a  hero  and  a  man.  But 
in  New  Jersey,  the  land  of  my  birth  and  boyhood,  there  was 
no  game  in  the  animal  line  of  greater  calibre  than  the  fero 
cious  rabbit,  and  in  the  feathered  way  the  robin  stood,  or 
rather  flew,  pre-eminent.  Living  all  my  life  in  cities,  I  sel 
dom  had  opportunity  to  practice  my  cruel  designs  even  upon 
these. 

But  when  in  an  evil  hour  Satan,  through  his  innocent 
agent,  Horace  Greeley,  called  upon  me  to  "  go  west/7  visions 
of  bear,  deer,  wild  turkeys,  and  other  beasts  and  birds,  each 
after  his  kind,  danced  through  my  enkindled  imagination, 
and  I  started  forth  with  a  whole  arsenal  of  destructive  arms 


104  MY   FIKST   HUNT   IX   MY   NEW   HOME. 

First  was  a  new  English  double  barrel  breech  loader,  of  lam 
inated  steel,  for  which  I  paid  $100,  (per  ninety  days  note  of 
hand,  which  the  fortunate  seller  still  holds  among  his  assets  as 
a  panic  bankrupt,  good  of  itself,  as  Jay  Gould's  Northern 
Pacifies,  but  difficult  of  realization  until  congress  inflates  the 
currency  sufficiently  to  tide  over  many  things  now  apparently 
grounded  beyond  hope,  or  the  reach  of  resurrection.  This  is 
a  rather  long  parenthesis,  but  truth  is  mighty  and  will  pre 
vail.)  This  was  supplemented  (not  the  parenthesis,  but  the 
gun  mentioned  above,)  by  a  single  barrel  of  assured  excellence. 
Then  came  a  Springfield  musket,  which  I  had  patriotically  car 
ried  (by  a  §600  substitute,)  all  through  the  war  of  the  rebellion. 
A  short  and  beautiful  Wesson  rifle,  and  a  Spencer  seven 
shooter  army  carbine,  completed  the  armament  with  which  I 
started  for  my  new  home  in  the  Northwest.  Of  course  I 
expected  to  find  deer  innumerable,  in  the  woods  immediately 
surrounding  my  little  "  clearing,"  and  to  be  chased  by  a  bear 
every  time  I  went  down  to  the  log  barn  to  feed  "  Fritz,"  my 
diminutive  but  vicious  scrub  of  a  Canadian  pony. 

Filled  with  content  and  happiness  at  the  novelty  of  my 
new  life,  I  shouldered  my  Wesson,  a  few  days  after  my  arri 
val,  and  struck  out  into  the  solemn  primeval  forest.  My 
destination  was  Au  Sable  Lake,  three  miles  distant,  and  the 
way  was  pointed  out  to  me  by  a  Norwegian  neighbor,  he  be 
ing  one  of  the  three  only  settlers  of  our  locality. 

The  scene  as  I  entered  the  dark  wilderness,  was  so  differ 
ent  from  all  my  past  associations,  that  I  soon  became  absorbed 
in  reflections,  solemn  and  suggestive.  The  dense  and  silent 
solitude  was  filled  with  huge  trees,  whose  first  roots  had 
struck  into  the  soil  centuries  before  Columbus  bored  the 
slothful  rulers  of  Genoa  and  Spain,  with  his  vagaries  of  a 
New  World.  Mighty  hemlocks  were  here,  whose  trunks, 
near  the  ground,  measured  five  feet  in  diameter,  and  whose 


MY   FIRST   HUNT   IK   MY   NEW   HOME.  105 

individual  years  numbered  five  centuries.  Hundreds  of  such 
lay  prone  amid  these  solitudes,  the  victims  of  fire,  of  age, 
and  of  decay,  and  it  requires  a  strong  and  active  hunter  to 
thread  his  way  amid  these  barriers  to  progress.  The  scene  to 
me  presented  the  fanciful  idea,  that  in  some  age  long  past, 
there  had  been  a  battle  of  the  forests,  and  the  slain  had  been 
left  to  blanch  and  moulder  where  they  had  fallen  ! 

In  about  an  hour  I  reached  Au  Sable,  and  found  it  a  lovely 
sheet  of  water,  about  three  miles  in  circumference,  of  crystal 
clearness,  and  belted  with  pine  trees,  whose  green  tops  were 
proof  against  the  season's  changes,  and  which  suggest  thoughts 
of  the  glorious  summer  time,  even  when  the  winter  rages  in 
unrestrained  fury. 

But  what  sent  the  blood  tingling  from  citadel  to  extremities, 
and  gave  uncontrollable  nervousness  to  body  and  limbs, 
was  the  long  lines  of  geese  and  ducks  that  were  feeding  in 
the  distance  upon  the  serge  and  celery  of  the  shallow  places 
in  the  lake.  I  felt  that  my  hour  of  success  as  a  hunter  had 
arrived,  and  that  my  next  letters  to  expectant  friends  at  the 
East  would  shine  with  the  resplendent  record  of  my  exploits. 

I  got  down  upon  my  hands  and  knees  and  crawled  the 
third  of  a  mile  to  a  clump  of  bushes  that  stood  between  me 
and  my  intended  victims.  The  journey  proved  a  laborious 
and  exhausting  one  to  a  rather  fleshy  man,  whose  running 
weight  is  one  hundred  and  eighty  pounds.  But  expectation 
sustained  me,  and  I  reached  the  coveted  ambush  at  last. 
With  a  heart  that  beat  time  to  my  excitement,  and  seemed 
determined  to  break  out  and  see  the  "sport,". I  cautiously 
raised  my  head  above  the  low  sand,  ridge.  Nimrod  &  Co., 
what  a  sight !  At  least  ten  thousand  wild  fowl  were  in  view! 
•But  the  nearest  line  was  all  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards 
from  my  cover.  1  lay  prone  for  a  full  half  hour,  shaking 
all  over  with  novel  excitement,  waiting  for  a  nearer  approach 

G 


106  MY   FIRST   HUNT    IX    MY   NEW    HOME. 

of  the  game.  At  the  end  of  this  time  my  movements  had 
evidently  been  discovered.  The  enemy  broke  up  his  regular 
formations,  and  gathered  in  little  squads  to  discuss  the  situa 
tion.  They  bobbed  their  heads  up  and  down  suspiciously, 
sailed  here  and  there  in  narrow  circles,  and  seemed  to  keep 
up  a  knowing  conversation  as  to  the  proper  mode  of  proce 
dure.  At  last  one  old  fellow,  a  sort  of  admiral  Drake  of  the 
fleet,  whose  green  head  glistened  gorgeously  in  the  sunlight, 
swam  out  toward  me,  first  presenting  one  side  and  then  the 
other,  and  finally  came  to  a  full  halt  at  a  distance  of  about 
fifty  yards  from  my  hiding  place. 

My  nervousness  had  now  fearfully  increased.  I  shook  all 
over,  like  one  with  the  double-breasted  ague.  Finally  I 
managed  to  rest  my  rifle  upon  a  dead  limb,  and  tried  to  take 
aim.  But  my  vision  seemed  to  blur  every  object.  In  vain 
I  tried  to  bring  the  muzzle  of  my  piece  upon  the  intended 
victim.  There  seemed  to  be  four  barrels  to  my  rifle,  while 
about  fourteen  "  sights'7  waltzed  up  and  down,  backward  and 
forward,  and  all  around  the  end  thereof! 

At  last  I  managed  to  pull  trigger  at  a  wild  and  desperate 
venture.  A  sharp  crack,  and  then  I  looked  out  anxiously 
for  the  effect.  The  old  drake  raised  himself  up  on  his  hind 
legs,  gave  his  wings  a  few  flaps  and  settled  down  again 
quietly  in  the  same  spot.  After  two  or  three  minutes  of 
effort  I  managed  to  get  another  cartridge  into  the  "  death- 
dealing"  weapon.  With  increased  trepidation  I  sent  another 
bullet  after  that  invulnerable,  imperturbable  green-headed 
monster !  He  acknowledged  the  compliment  precisely  as  at 
first !  I  fired  two  more,  shots  in  quick  succession,  with  the 
same  pantomime  as  the  afterpiece  from  the  party  of  the  first 
part !  Finding  that  the  cuss  was  inclined  to  be  facetious  at" 
my  expense,  I  retired  from  the  scene  in  disgust,  and  plunged 


MY   FIRST   HUNT   IN   MY   NEW   HOME.  107 

into  the  forest  followed  by  a  most  awful  din  of  "  quack/' 
"  quack,"  "  quack  !  "  from  the  whole  company  ! 

Just  as  the  gloom  and  silence  of  the  woods  began  to  deepen 
around  me,  and  while  absorbed  in  meditation  over  the  obdu 
racy  of  Michigan  ducks,  a  fearful  screech  issued  from  a  lofty 
hemlock,  right  over  my  head  !  In  an  instant  I  felt  bodily 
petrified  to  the  spot,  but  with  every  mental  faculty  sharpened 
to  an  intensity  never  felt  before.  All  that  my  youthful  days 
had  ever  heard  or  read  about  panthers,  came  flashing  back 
upon  memory.  I  remembered  how  the  treacherous  varmints 
would  lay  crouched  upon  huge  limbs,  and  as  the  weary  trav 
eler  passed  under,  a  scream,  followed  by  an  instantaneous 
spring,  heralded  his  doom !  The  hair  of  my  head  stood  up, 
like  that  of  the  chap  who  saw  the  vision  in  Job.  The  rifle 
dropped  from  my  nerveless  grasp  !  The  "  mighty  hunter  " 
was  as  helpless  as  a  child  in  the  presence  of  this  sudden  and 
unseen  danger !  Romance  had  fled  at  the  first  approach  of 
reality. 

The  seconds  thus  passed  seemed  like  hours  in  duration. 
Slowly  my  numbed  physical  faculties  recalled  themselves  to 
partial  activity.  I  raised  my  eyes  to  the  fascinating  point  of 
danger,  just  as  the  horrible  sound  was  repeated  ! 

And  there  was  the  forest-fiend  in  full  view !  It  was  the 
limb  of  a  tall  pine  tree,  the  body  of  which  had  blown  over 
against  an  adjacent  hemlock,  and  as  the  wind  swayed  the  sup 
port,  the  friction  of  the  infernal  limb  gave  forth  the  sound 
that  had  so  paralyzed  my  faculties  ! 

The  discovery  brought  instantaneous  relief;  and  with  an 
attempt  at  a  smile,  which  was  not  as  successful  as  one  inter 
ested  could  have  wished,  I  picked  up  my  rifle  and  resumed 
the  hunt. 

About  a  mile  further  on  I  passed  the  cabin  of  a  wood 
chopper ;  and  leading  directly  from  a  little  outlying  shed  I 


108  MY   FIRST   HUNT   IN    MY   KEW   HOME. 

discovered,  in  the  light  snow  which  still  remained  in  the 
woods,  the  fresh  track  of  a  deer  !  It  was  of  unusually  large 
size,  and  I  set  it  down  as  having  been  made  by  an  immense 
buck.  Having  but  a  vague,  city  idea  of  the  animal  and  his 
appetites  and  habits,  I  surmised  that  the  prowler  had  been 
depredating  upon  the  poor  man's  henroost,  and  in  this  thought 
sought  justification  in  an  attempt  to  slay  him,  although  the 
law  then  protected  such  game  as  "  out  of  season." 

And  so  I  pursued  the  track  with  all  the  excitement  of  a 
novice  in  the  hunting  business,  anxious  to  bring  down  an 
illustrious  antlered  denizen  of  the  wilds.  At  intervals  all 
along  the  trail  I  could  see  where  the  animal  had  rooted  the 
snow  away,  that  he  might  reach  the  food  beneath,  and  these 
signs  at  last  became  so  fresh  that  I  knew  a  few  minutes  more 
must  bring  on  the  crisis.  All  of  a  sudden  I  saw  a  move 
ment  in  the  thick  undergrowth  a  short  distance  ahead  !  This 
discovery  brought  on  the  "  buck  ager,"  as  the  natives  denom 
inate  that  shaking  attack  which  always  seizes  upon  the  hunter 
when  called  to  confront  his  first  deer,  still  I  pushed  cautiously 
forward,  my  heart  sounding  like  the  rapid  thumping  of  shore 
water  under  a  beached  canoe. 

All  at  once  I  saw  that  the  track  had  left  the  old  lumber  trail, 
and  turned  to  the  left  into  the  woods.  I  stopped  a  moment  to 
reconnoitre.  Suddenly  with  a  loud  succession  of  grunts,  the 
enemy  leaped  from  behind  a  huge  hemlock  into  the  middle  of 
the  road,  and  drew  up  in  crescent-shaped  order  of  battle,  the 
concave  inclining  outward !  Her  tusks  rattled  away  like  the 
castinets  of  a  negro  minstrel,  only  the  sounds  were  those  of 
alarm,  rage  and  defiance.  Judging  from  her  double  battery 
of  hea*ry  guns,  she  must  have  left  a  large  family  at  home 
while  she  went  out  to  forage.  You  ought  to  have  seen  this 
"  hunter  "  take  to  a  tree  !  The  movement  showed  timidity, 
and  the  enemy  became  emboldened  thereby,  and  at  once 


MY   FIRST   HUNT   IN   MY   NEW   HOME.  109 

pushed  the  advantage  aggressively.  She  came  on  sideways, 
like  a  hog  for  war  !  Every  separate  bristle  stood  straight  up, 
like  1  o'clock ! 

"  Piggy,  piggy,  poor  old  piggy,"  I  exclaimed,  in  the  most 
seductive  tones  I  could  get  through  my  chattering  teeth. 
But  the  fiend  was  proof  against  such  gentle  blandishments, 
and  moved  on  my  works,  slowly  but  determinedly.  She  was 
now  within  a  few  feet  of  my  tree,  with  the  foam  dropping 
from  her  champing  jaws ! 

Well,  beloved  reader,  I  did  what  many  a  brave  man  has 
done  before,  in  the  face  of  overwhelming  odds.  I  took  to 
my  heels  through  the  woods  !  With  fierce  grunts  of  tri 
umph,  the  enemy  came  on  in  pursuit.  A  limb  knocked  off 
my  hat,  and  another  nearly  knocked  out  an  eye.  But  true 
courage  is  not  disconcerted  by  trifles,  and  my  short  legs  did 
their  duty  manfully.  The  "  time  "  I  made,  notwithstanding 
the  bad  condition  of  the  track,  is  a  marvel  to  me  even  unto 
this  day.  In  a  little  while  the  sounds  of  pursuit  grew  fainter 
and  fainter,  and  at  length  entirely  ceased.  The  victory  was 
mine ! 

But  I  got  lost  in  the  woods,  and  wandered  around  for 
hours,  in  helpless  bewilderment.  Just  as  I  was  about  giving 
out  in  utter  despair,  the  sound  of  the  great  lake  struck  its 
joyous  tones  to  my  heart,  and  afforded  me  a  clue  through  the 
labyrinth.  I  soon  reached  its  welcome  shore,  and  then  knew 
my  way. 

I  entered  my  home  just  after  dark,  hatless,  clothes  torn  to 
tatters,  and  soaked,  fore  and  aft,  in  blood  by  the  brambles. 

When  I  had  related  my  adventure  to  the  family,  my  wife, 
who  is  of  an  affectionate  disposition,  kindly  complimented 
me  as  being  the  "  biggest  fool  in  the  settlement !  " 

"  You're  a  pretty  hunter,  you  are,"  she  continued,  "  don't 
know  a  hog  from  a  deer  ! " 


110  MY   FIRST   HUNT   IX    MY   NEW   HOME. 

Sympathetic  reader,  the  tracks  of  the  two  distinct  animals 
are  very  similar  to  an  unpracticed  eye,  only  that  of  the  grown 
swine  is  much  the  largest.  But  then,  you  see,  I  thought  the 
deer  I  was  after  was  such  a  thundering  big  fellow !  Pray 
excuse  the  mistake. 


MY  MAPLE. 


IT  stands  right  against  the  little  western  window  of  my 
cabin,  does  the  maple  tree  of  which  I  write.  How  the 
fierce  fire  spared  it  in  its  hunger,  that  time  the  clearing  was 
first  burned  over,  and  log,  and  limb,  and  underbrush  shrank 
into  ashes  in  an  instant,  is  yet  an  unsolved  mystery  to  the 
mind  untutored  in  wild  western  phenomenon.  But  here  it 
stands,  the  sole  remaining  living  representative  of  what  was 
three  years  ago  sixteen  acres  of  primeval  forest.  The  deso 
lation  was  accomplished  the  year  before  I  had  left  my  eastern 
home  to  enter  upon  the  forty  acres  of  which  this  clearing  is 
a  part.  My  maple  alone  stands,  untouched  and  vigorous, 
amid  the  charred  and  ashy  desolation  of  its  surroundings. 

When  the  snows  of  the  long  northern  winter  have  at  last 
yielded  to  the  encroachments  of  the  later  spring  upon  their 
sovereignty,  how  I  love  to  sit  and  watch  the  swelling  buds  of 
my  lonely  maple,  unfolding  toward  the  green  leaf,  and  to  see 
their  shadows  deepening,  day  by  day,  upon  the  little  carpet  of 
white  clover  beneath.  June  comes  in  its  season  and  brings 
my  sturdy  little  maple  a  rich  garniture  of  green,  which  the 
cunning  dew  drop  loves  to  gather  upon  when  the  night 
comes  on,  to  be  burnished  into  diamonds  by  the  morning 
sun.  And  then  the  little  birds  corne  from  the  far  South,  and 
seek  out  even  here  the  homes  of  rude,  uncultivated  men,  and 
awaken  with  music  those  old  memories  of  other  lands  that 
so  sadden  the  heart  and  purify  the  soul  of  the  wanderer. 

There  was  one  little  fellow — a  very  little  fellow — who  came 
early  last  Summer  and  took  a  squatter  title  to  my  maple. 


112  MY   MAPLE. 

And  all  the  beautiful  days  would  he  hop  from  twig  to  twig, 
peering  under  the  leaves  for  tiny  insects.  Ah !  has  Nature, 
in  all  her  ways,  no  exception  to  the  law  of  Destroyer  and 
Victim  ? 

This  little  bird  of  mine  is  all  over  bottle  green,  except  a 
narrosv  clerical  streak  of  white  about  his  throat,  and  an  un 
dertaker's  patch  of  regulation  mourning  at  the  termination  of 
his  tail.  He  has  a  keen,  inquisitive  little  eye,  that  finds  the 
food  that  has  just  escaped  the  careless  search  of  the  restless 
little  wren — that  belligerent  marauder  upon  the  bailiwick  of 
all  the  other  feathered  tribes,  from  hawk  to  humming-bird. 

Sometimes  my  bird  of  the  maple  will  hop  out  cautiously 
to  the  very  end  of  the  limb  nearest  my  window,  within  a  few 
feet  of  my  manuscript,  turn  his  little  black  eye  curiously  and 
inquiringly  into  my  face,  as  though  he  thought  I  must  be 
hungry,  and  in  need  of  the  still  fluttering  miller  he  holds  in 
his  little  bill. 

One  morning  my  little  melodist  brought  a  companion  with 
him  from  the  forest,  of  his  own  kind,  but  of  a  soberer  hue. 
And  wasn't  that  thereafter  a  happy  couple  !  Side  by  side 
in  their  leafy  covert  would  they  sit  all  the  matin  morning, 
and  sing  and  twitter  lovingly  to  each  other,  dart  at  intervals, 
like  animated  emeralds,  into  the  sunlight,  then  back  again 
into  their  home  by  my  window.  All  this  was  a  new  joy  to 
me.  Dear  reader,  if  you  ever  come  to  live  alone  in  the 
solemn  wilderness,  you  will  be  glad  to  find  companionship  in 
humble  and  unregarded  things. 

One  day  I  noticed  that  my  little  friends  were  unusually 
restless,  as  though  agitated  by  the  near  pressure  of  some 
important  event.  As  I  watched  their  amusing  earnestness  of 
demonstration  toward  each  other,  they  sallied  off,  and  in  a 
few  moments  after  I  had  resumed  my  writing,  I  was  inter 
rupted  by  a  muffled  twitter.  Glancing  at  my  maple,  behold 


MY   MAPLE.  113 

my  little  friends,  with  each  a  shred  of  building  material  in 
its  bill !  My  birdies  had  been  getting  married  and  were  pre 
paring  for  the  consequences ! 

Well,  the  nuptial  nest  was  finally  completed,  and  Mrs. 
Green  did  her  duty  in  the  premises.  By  poking  my  rifle 
into  the  tree,  and  displacing  a  few  interlaced  branches,  I  was 
rejoiced  with  a  view  of  four  dear  little  eggs  of  deep  blue, 
mottled  with  irregular  brown  spots.  And  upon  these  did 
Mrs.  Green  sit,  day  by  day,  rarely  leaving  her  maternal  treas 
ures,  Mr.  Green  industriously  bringing  her  the  nicest  fat 
grubs  that  an  adjacent  sward  afforded. 

And  wasn't  little  Mr.  Green  jolly  !  Hour  by  hour  would 
he  sit 

"  Atilt  like  a  blossom,  amid  the  leaves, 

And  let  his  illumined  being  o'errun, 

With  the  deluge  of  summer  it  receives. 

His  mate  feels  the  eggs  beneath  her  wings, 

And  the  heart  in  her  dumb  breast  flutters  and  sings. 

He  sings  to  the  wide  world  and  she  to  the  nest. — 

In  the  nice  ear  of  Nature,  which  song  is  the  best?" 

But  I  weary  the  impatient  reader,  and  I  fear  but  few  others 
peruse  these  musing  vagaries  of  mine,  and  so  I  will  not  push 
this  picture  to  completion.  A  beautiful  and  instructive  finale 
remains  undisclosed  in  the  inner  recesses  of  memory.  Some 
few  souls  of  clearer  mould  wish  I  had  proceeded,  and  to  pun 
ish  such  for  being  less  gross  than  their  fellows,  I  drop  my 
birdies  out  of  sight. 

The  summer  by  the  Great  Lake  is  gone,  and  taken  with  it 
the  beauty  and  the  glory  of  clearing  and  forest.  My  eyes  are 
fixed  tearfully  upon  my  maple.  Its  branches  are  bare  and 
verdureless,  save  where  here  and  there  upon  a  moaning  limb 
a  yellow  and  withered  leaf  clings  to  its  sapless  stem,  as 
though  reluctant  to  go  down  to  the  cold  and  pitiless  earth. 


114  MY    MAPLE. 

But  even  as  I  gaze,  one  by  one  these  last  lingering  creations  of 
the  summer  shower  and  sunshine  drop  silently  downward,  are 
caught  up  by  the  autumnal  winds  and  eddied  onward  beyond 
the  ken  of  my  tearful  vision. 

And  even  thus  from  the  trce"*of  life  have  the  companions  of 
my  boyhood  passed  into  the  oblivion  of  the  grave.  The  sum 
mer  sun  comes  and  goes,  my  maple  puts  on  and  off  its  green 
garniture,  but  to  the'  associates  of  my  youth  there  is  no 
earthly  resurrection.  Good  men  tell  us  of  a  happy  land  be 
yond  the  dark  river,  where  pain,  nor  death,  nor  sorrow  never 
enter,  and  where  the  trees  ever  bloom  by  the  waters  of  eternal 
life.  Happy  is  he  who  has  faith  in  these  things,  for  to  him 
Death  is  but  the  janitor  who  holds  in  trust  the  key  of  his 
eternal  heritage. 


ANOTHER  INTERESTING  INTERVIEW 
WITH  THE  "OLD  SETTLER." 


THE  snow  storm  had  lasted  three  days,  and  was  still  doing 
its  best  to  hide  from  the  eye  of  man  all  the  work  of  his 
hands.  The  fences  had  disappeared.  The  drifts  had  envi 
roned  the  few  cabins  of  the  clearing,  even  to  the  eaves  of  the 
roof.  The  wreaths  of  smoke  from  the  roaring  fires  beneath 
were  scarcely  discernible  through  the  white  siftings  of  the 
dark  clouds,  as  the  winds  roared,  and  howled,  and  whistled, 
and  screeched  in  the  maddened  play  of  the  tempest.  The 
mighty  hemlocks  swayed  to  and  fro  like  drunken  men,  and 
the  solemn  meanings  of  the  agonized  lake  mingled  in  the 
elemental  convulsion,  sounding  like  a  dirge  from  eternity 
over  a  shaken  and  endangered  world. 

"  Surely,"  said  I,  in  a  congratulatory  mental  expression, 
"  mine  adversary  will  not  trouble  me  to-day,  and  the  train 
of  thought  I  am  exercising  for  my  pet  new  story  will  receive 
no  fatal  interruption  from  the  thoughtless  garrulity  of  my 
distant  neighbor,  the  "  Old  Settler." 

So  thinking,  and  fortified  by  the  thought,  I  seated  my 
self  at  my  little  pine  table,  scattered  around  my  last  few 
sheets  of  paper  one  by  one,  that  the  whole  entablature  might 
have  that  slovenly  literary  appearance  which  is  supposed  to 
mark  the  indifference  of  transcendent  genius  to  the  graces  of 
order;  inked  my  pen  to  its  hilt  so  that  in  drawing  it  back  its 
contents  might  drop  blots  upon  all  its  surroundings — which 
is  also  another  mark — a  black  one — of  the  unaffected  genius 
of  your  true  romance  writer ;  ran  my  finger  through  the  bald 


116    ANOTHER  INTERVIEW  WITH  THE 

place  on  the  top  of  my  head,  "  where  the  hair  used  to  grow ;" 
put  on  the  regulation  frown,  and  the  troubled  look  which 
distinguishes  our  tribe  when  desirous  of  being  "  interesting" 
in  the  sight  of  the  softer  sex,  and  then  bent  over  to  the  work 
before  me,  the  initial  chapter  of  my  new  "  thrilling"  story. 

Imagination  was  propitious  and  poured  out  her  wealth  of 
romance  faster  than  my  pen  could  invoice  her  generous 
donations.  Just  as  I  had  inked  the  entrance  of  the  lovely 
Georgiana  "VVilhelmina  Jenkins  upon  the  stage,  leaning  upon 
the  arm  of  Charles  Augustus  Henry  de  Leatherhead,  a  sound 
outside  my  cabin  sent  my  heated  fancy  down  into  the  bulb  of 
zero. 

"And  my  heart  in  its  leap  stood  still,  like  a  frozen  waterfall !" 

Yes,  there  was  no  mistaking  either  the  song  or  the 
singer,  as  these  lines  cut  their  way,  sharp  and  ringing,  through 
the  frosty  air : 

"  I  fought  with  General  Sherman, 

For  the  flaer  of  Uncle  Sam, 
And  we  marched  through  Georgia 
Just  like  ad 1" 

It  was  the  "Old  Settler"  that  here  lifted  the  latch  and 
stood  before  me,  six  feet  three  inches  in  his  snow  shoes ! 

"  Kinder  rough  out  this  mornin' !"  was  his  opening  saluta 
tion.  "  Reckon  your  fellers  what's  a  haulin'  saw-logs  down 
by  the  old  Ingun  trail  won't  make  morn'n  a  half  day  of  it. 
Oxen  ain't  worth  much  on  a  pull  of  forty  inches  of  snow  to 
the  square  foot  on  a  dead  level,  leavin'  out  the  big  drift  at  the 
head  of  the  gorge.  Better  go  and  tell  'em  to  call  it  half  a 
day,  neighbor,  or  I'll  bedurned  if  them  Norweegin  scalawags 
won't  fool  around  there,  makin'  a  big  fuss,  and  doin'  nothin', 


117 

and  then  charge  for  a  hull  day.  You  don't  know  them  fur- 
rin  chaps  that  hev  dropped  down  this  way  from  the  old  coun 
try  as  well  as  you  will  after  a  while,  and  I  don't  want  to  see 
you  fooled  out  of  your  money  by  no  sich.  When  you  give 
me  that  new  hat  last  summer,  when  the  ?tater  bugs  was  doin' 
their  level  best  on  a  short  notice,  I  made  up  my  mind  to  look 
out  a  little  arter  your  interests." 

I  had  thus  far  paid  no  attention  to  my  tormentor,  except  a 
cold  nod  of  recognition  at  his  entrance^  but  pretended  to  be 
engaged  in  the  hopeless  task  of  continuing  my  writing.  Ob 
serving  that  I  made  no  response  to  his  kindly  suggestion  in 
reference  to  the  men  in  my  employ,  he  drew  a  chair  toward 
the  stove,  squirted  a  gill  of  tobacco  juice  upon  that  useful 
servitor  of  a  cold  cabin,  which  instantly  resented  the  indig 
nity  by  a  fierce  and  prolonged  hiss. 

The  Old  Settler  sat  a  few  moments  in  meditative  silence, 
and  then  broke  forth  with : 

"  'Pears  to  me,  mister,  that  you'm  a  leetle  huffy  this 
mornin'." 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,  my  friend,"  I  rejoined,  "  you  have 
€ome  in  upon  me  just  as  I  was  engaged  on  a  very  particular 
task  of  writing  that  I  am  anxious  to  finish  to-day,  and  really 
I  cannot  afford  the  time  at  present  for  that  neighborly  talk 
that  would  be  so  agreeable  under  ordinary  circumstances. 
But  to-day  you  will  have  to  excuse  me." 

"Jes  so,  mister,  jes  so  !  Bizness  afore  pleasure  is  the  sap- 
lin'  that's  always  safe  to  tie  to.  But  it  don't  make  the  least 
mite  of  difference  to  me.  I  kin  talk  jist  as  well  to  a  feller 
when  he's  a  writin,  as  when  he  aint.  The  screechin'  of  that 
pen  of  your'n  don't  flusterfy  me  a  bit.  I  kin  do  pretty  much 
all  the  talkin'  while  you  go  on  with  the  writin'." 

I  here  resumed  my  work  with  wild  determination,  and  the 
Old  Settler  pulled  forth  a  plug  of  real  Virginia  "  niggar 


118     ANOTHER  INTERVIEW  WITH  THE 

head  "  from  his  pouch,  shaved  .off  a  few  slices  with  his  hunt 
ing  knife,  filled  his  short  dingy  pipe,  lit  it,  and  puffed  away 
for  a  few  seconds  in  mollified  silence.  But  a  thought  sud 
denly  insisted  upon  utterance,  and  removing  his  pipe  from  his 
mouth  he  resumed  his  interruptions  thus : 

"  Mister,  I  was  over  to  Bear  Lake  last  Sunday  to  set  my 
otter  traps,  when  I  met  Jim  Huffman,  who  was  goin'  down  to 
Shelby  with  a  thunderin'  big  buck  on  his  bob-sled,  which  he 
had  popped  over  that  mornin'  at  the  lower  licks.  And  Jim 
up  and  axed  me  what  your  fust  name  was,  as  he  wanted  to 
git  the  schoolmaster  to  write  a  letter  for  him  about  hirein' 
out  to  you  to  do  that  loggin'  on  the  south  side  of  your  forty. 
What  mout  your  fust  name  be  ?  " 

I  threw  myself  back  in  my  chair,  and  in  a  tone  half  indig 
nant,  half  despairing,  exclaimed : 

"  Bored  !  my  first  name  is  Bored  \  just  at  present." 

The  Old  Settler  replaced  his  pipe  in  his  mouth,  gave  a  few 
vigorous  sucks  by  way  of  reviving  its  dying  embers,  mused 
a  moment,  and  then  said  : 

"  Are  you  any  a  kin  to  the  Bords  down  about  Muskegon  ?" 

This  was  about  the  last  feather,  and  I  could  make  no 
response.  The  Old  Settler  must  have  observed  the  despair  of 
my  expression,  for  he  said,  in  a  kindly  and  encouraging  tone  : 

"  Don't  mind  me,  neighbor  Bord.  Go  on  with  that  job  of 
writin'.  It's  jist  the  same  to  me  if  you  talk  back  or  don't 
talk  back.  I  reckon  I  know  what  belongs  to  manners,  and 
when  a  man  is  busy  I  don't  expect  him  to  strike  his  axe  in  a 
stump  and  set  down  on  the  log  to  talk  on  my  account.  That's 
Pete  Higgins,  that  is,  and  I  don't  keer  a  dead  coon  for  the 
best  man  livin',  eny  furder  then  civilty  is  concerned." 

A  new  stratagem  here  suggested  itself  as  a  last  resort  to  my 
painfully  bewildered  senses.  I  remembered  that  this  imper 
turbable  monster — this  uncouth  Hercules  of  the  woods — had 


119 

informed  me  on  a  previous  occasion  that  he  had  learned  to 
read  a  little  while  in  the  army.  There  was  a  bound  volume 
of  LittelPs  Living  Age  upon  my  table,  and  it  might  be  possi 
ble  to  get  him  interested  in  some  one  of  its  pages.  I  pushed 
the  book  toward  him,  and  with  a  seductive  but  false  smile, 
spoke  the  horrible  man,  thus  : 

"  My  dear  friend  and  neighbor,  here  is  a  book  of  many  in 
teresting  facts.  I  know  you  cannot  fail  to  become  interested 
in  it ." 

My  tormentor  stretched  forth  his  hairy,  horny,  brawny 
hand,  and  took  the  proffered  volume,  and  I  resumed  my  writ 
ing,  hopeful  that  a  diversion  in  my  favor  had  at  last  been  ac 
complished.  But  this  hope  soon  proved  to  be 

"Like  the  snowflake  on  the  river, 
A  moment  bright,  then  gone  forever  !  " 

A  grunt  of  dissatisfaction  again  called  my  attention  from  my 
manuscript  to  my  visitor.  I  looked  up.  He  had  just  fin 
ished  spelling  out  the  name  upon  the  back  of  the  book,  and 
a  look  of  unutterable  contempt  was  fast  spreading  over  his 
hard  features.  He  pushed  the  volume  back  toward  me  with 
a  gesture  of  disgust : 

"  Mister,"  he  exclaimed,  "  the  feller  what  writ  that  book  is 
a  durn'd  eternal  humbug  !  '  Little  Livin'  Agee  II '  The  little 
agee  may  do  well  enough  for  them  chaps  in  the  East,  what 
ain't  got  stuff  enough  about  'em  to  keep  their  backbones 
straight,  and  who  a  right  smart  Western  wind  would  blow 
out  of  their  boots,  and  snap  their  pipe-stem  legs  into  inch 
pieces,  but  no  little  agee  for  me.  When  one  of  us  fellers  out 
here  git  anything  onnateral  we  want  it  big,  acordin'  to  the 
country. 

"  L-i-t-t-l-e  livin'  agee !  And  had  to  go  and  write  a  book 
about  a  thing  that  was  no  great  shakes,  no  how  !  The  poor 


120    ANOTHER  INTERVIEW  WITH  THE  "OLD  SETTLER." 

Yankee  slink,  there  ain't  man  enough  in  him  to  face  a  wood- 
chuck.  I'll  bet  all  my  winter's  hunt  that  my  old  woman, 
who  is  now  well  onto  sixty  years,  can  take  that  chap  by  the 
back  of  the  neck  and  snap  his  toe  nails  off !" 

The  old  settler  paused  a  moment,  but  the  expression  of  dis 
gust  upon  his  face  continued  to  deepen.  He  shook  his  head 
slowly  from  side  to  side,  by  way  of  emphasis  to  the  contempt 
that  was  evidently  gathering  strength  within  him.  At  length 
he  looked  up,  and  seeing  me  in  the  attitude  of  despair,  ex 
claimed  : 

"  Go  on  with  that  writin',  Mister.  I  can  talk  all  day,  and 
if  all  the  little  livin'  agee  chaps  in  the  East  was  a  writin' 
books  right  under  my  nose,  it  wouldn't  make  me  forgit  a 
word  what  I  wanted  to  say." 

Again  he  stopped,  again  shook  his  head  in  a  most  dissat 
isfied  manner,  and  grunted  forth  his  suppressed  indignation. 
His  silence  continued  for  several  minutes,  and  observing  that 
his  eyes  Avere  closed,  and  the  motion  of  his  head  had  subsided 
into  only  an  occasional  jerk  backward,  I  fancied  that  my  tor 
mentor  had  sought  in  sleep  a  temporary  refuge  from  the  pain 
ful  consideration  of  a  subject  that  had  so  disturbed  him.  I 
cautiously  resumed  my  pen,  and  recommenced  work  upon 
my  new  story.  But  I  had  scarcely  penned  a  dozen  words, 
when  he  suddenly  wheeled  his  chair  around  in  front  of  me, 
and  opened  his  oral  battery  with  renewed  vigor. 

"  I  wonder  if  that  slack-twisted  Yankee  cuss  ever  heard  of 
the  big  shakin'  agee  ?  When  I  lived  in  Ingeeana  I  had  it 
nigh  onto  'leven  months  at  a  stretch.  I  ain't  no  child,  to 
sniffle  and  whimper  at  what  can't  be  helped,  but  that  rather 
fetched  me. 

"  Neighbor  Bord,  at  the  eend  of  the  fust  six  months  I  hadn't 
meat  enough  on  these  bones  to  tempt  a  starved  wolf,  and  I 
used  to  shake  the  children  out  of  bed,  some  nights  when 


ANOTHER  INTERVIEW  WITH  THE  "  OLD  SETTLER."     121 

it  was  extra  bad,  until  at  last  the  old  woman  lied  to  make 
'em  sleep  on  the  floor,  without  any  kivers.  Every  durned 
rag  in  the  cabin,  and  all  the  deer  skins,  hed  to  be  piled  on 
me  to  keep  me  from  freezing  and  tied  on  with  the  clothes  line 
at  that ! 

"  Well,  I  hadn't  been  able  to  earn  a  cent  in  all  this  time 
and  at  last  everything  in  the  house  was  eat  up.     And  the 
children  began  to  come  around  where  I  would  be  a  mopin' 

when  once  in  awhile  I  had  an  off  day  from  the  d shakes, 

and  ask  me  for  a  piece  of  bread.  And  the  oldest  one  looked 
wolfish-like  out  of  his  eyes,  when  the  baby  toddled  near  him. 
So  my  wife  sed  to  me  one  day,  l  Pete/  sed  she,  i  youVe  al 
ways  been  a  good  husband  to  me,  except  sometimes  when  I 
was  cross  myself,  and  unreasonable,  but  I  know  neither  of 
us  really  meant  it.  But  you  ain't  much  stronger  now  than 
little  Sis,  and  if  splittin'  shingle  bolts  was  five  dollars  a  cord, 
you  couldn't  earn  a  loaf  of  bread  a  week.  But  something 
must  be  done,  or  Pete  will  eat  up  the  baby  right  before  our 
eyes.  I've  been  thinkiii'  about  this  until  I've  had  to  go  out 
doors  behind  the  cabin  and  have  a  good  cry  where  none  of 
you  could  see  me.  But  this  morning  when  I  went  out  into 
the  woods  to  see  if  I  could't  find  a  few  late  berries,  I  came 
across  something  that  will  fill  the  meal  barrel,  and  get  some 
pork,  and  perhaps  a  little  tea  and  sugar  for  you.  I  won't  tell 
you  now,  but  in  the  morning,  when  you  feel  the  shakes 
coming  on,  just  let  me  know.' 

"  Well,  friend  Bord,  this  kind  of  cheered  me  up,  but  what 
on  airth  the  old  woman  meant  I  couldn't  begin  to  guess. 
But  next  mornin',  just  as  daylight  was  breakin'  into  the  clear 
ing,  I  felt  the  old  crawl  agoin'  up  and  down  my  back.  I 
waked  up  my  wife,  and  told  her  that  I  know'd  that  there  was 
an  old  he  shake  a  comin'  on  that  would  likely  rattle  all  the 
bones  out  of  my  body. 

H 


122    ANOTHER  INTERVIEW  WITH  THE  "OLD  SETTLER.'7 

"  She  to  once  helped  me  out  of  bed,  and  I  made  out  to  git 
on  my  poor  old  ragged  trowsers  that  was  too  rotten  to  mend, 
and  out  of  doors  I  staggered,  leaning  on  her  shoulder.  We 
tottered  on  for  about  half  a  mile,  stoppin7  to  rest  once  in 
awhile,  till  at  last  the  old  woman  sed : 

"  ' Dear  Pete,  here's  what  the  good  Lord  has  provided  for 
us  in  our  great  distress/  and  she  pointed  to  the  top  of  a 
thunderin7  big  hickory  tree,  that  was  covered  with  jist  the 
biggist  crop  of  nuts  that  eny  man  ever  laid  his  eyes  on. 
The  tree  crotched  out  about  fifteen  feet  from  the  ground,  and 
then,  for  want  sharpens  a  feller's  wits,  I  began  to  see  the 
whole  thing  like  a  flash. 

" '  But  how  am  I  to  get  up  there  ?7  says  I. 

"  "With  that  she  stepped  into  the  bushes  and  dragged  out  a 
ladder,  which  she  had  herself  made  out  of  two  poles,  and 
nailed  some  old  shingles  onto  them  about  a  foot  apart.  Then 
she  raised  it  agin  the  tree,  but  it  was  almighty  hard  work  for 
her,  and  it  jist  reached  the  place.  Without  another  word  I 
crawled  up,  and  sat  down  in  the  crotch.  The  agee  had  just 
got  to  work,  and  in  about  ten  minutes  begun  to  put  in  the 
big  licks  ! 

uThe  way  them  nuts  came  rattlin'  down  about  that  time 
was  wuth  the  best  circus  you  ever  seed ! 

"The  old  woman  undertook  to  pick  7em  up  in  her  apron, 
but  she  soon  give  up  the  job,  and  skeeted  from  under  with 
both  hands  spread  over  her  head.  In  ten  minutes  there 
wasn't  a  dozen  nuts  left  on  that  tree,  and  hardly  a  leaf  either. 
At  last  the  old  woman  sung  out : 

"  c  Pete,  for  mercy  sake  come  right  down  !  If  you  stay  up 
there  another  minute  the  whole  top  will  be  shook  off,  all  the 
way  above  your  head,  and  drop  down  and  mash  you  ?7 

"I  looked  up,  and  sure  enough  some  of  the  biggest  limbs 
was  bcginnin7  to  split  off  from  the  body !  I  seed  at  once 


ANOTHER  INTERVIEW  WITH  THE  "OLD  SETTLER."     123 

that  the  ladder  would  be  too  slow  work,  so  I  grasped  my  arms 
around  the  tree  as  far  as  they  would  reach,  shet  my  eyes,  said 
a  short  grace,  and  slid ! 

"  Mr.  Bord,  it  was  a  shag-bark  hickory,  old  as  all  creation, 
and  as  rough  as  they  make  'em.  I  was  about  two  seconds  in 
reaching  the  ground,  but  when  I  struck  bottom  I  hadn't 
iiothin'  on  but  what  a  fellow  is  born  with,  except  one  old 
deer-skin  shoe.  The  rest  of  my  riggin'  hung  along  in 
patches,  from  the  crotch  of  that  old  tree  all  the  way  down  to 
the  roots ! 

"  That  arternoon  the  old  woman  and  the  three  children  had 
all  them  hickory  nuts  hulled  clean,  and  they  measured  about 
five  bushel.  The  next  day  a  tradin'  scow  came  down  the 
Wabasli  for  New  Orleans,  and  tied  up  on  shore  near  our 
cabin,  to  get  wood.  We  got  a  dollar  and  a  quarter  a  bushel 
for  them  nuts,  in  trade,  and  laid  in  a  stock  that  kept  our 
mouths  a  going  for  a  month." 

Here  the  Old  Settler  held  up  a  moment,  and  fastened  his 
sharp  blue  eyes  upon  my  face,  as  if  to  read  therein  the 
amount  of  credulity,  or  degree  of  patience,  writh  which  his 
story  was  received.  To  tell  the  truth,  and  in  spite  'of  my 
previous  indignation  at  his  persistent  annoyance,  I  had  in 
voluntarily  become  interested  in  his  preposterous  relation. 
Observing  this  he  resumed,  with  an  evident  expression  of 
satisfaction : 

"  Well,  mister,  what  with  pork  and  mollasses,  and  batter 
cakes  fried  in  coon  fat,  I  soon  begun  to  pick  up  a  little,  and 
in  less  than  a  matter  of  two  weeks  the  agee  sort  a  gin  out, 
and  I  could  do  a  little  potterin'  about  the  clearing  and  things 
seemed  to  look  as  if  I  was  a  goin'  to  come  around  all  right 
agin. 

"  My  wife  had  a  kind  o'  hankerin'  arter  religion,  though  she 
hed  never  jined  the  church.  Her  mother  hed  been  a  sort  of 


124    ANOTHER  INTERVIEW  WITH  THE 

a  Methodist,  and  though  the  old  woman  hed  hed  a  mighty 
hard  time  of  it  with  a  wuthless  drunken  husband,  she  died 
happy,  a  prayin'  of  the  Lord. 

"  So  my  wife  sed  to  me  one  day,  ( Pete/  sed  she,  '  you 
ought  to  be  thankful  that  the  Good  Man  has  heered  my  pray 
ers,  and  raised  you,  as  it  were,  from  the  dead.  There  is  a  big 
revival  a  goin'  on  at  the  little  church  over  to  Squatters ville, 
and  let's  you  and  me  go  to-night,  and  who  knows  but  what 
-we  may  both  git  the  blessin'  ? 

"  Well,  I  hedn't  hed  a  real  genewine  shake  in  four  days ; 
and  so  to  please  my  wife,  who  was  about  the  right  kind  of  a 
critter  arter  all,  if  she  did  let  that  tongue  of  hern  git  rather 
loose  sometimes,  I  told  her  I  reckoned  we'd  better  go,  and  see 
how  the  thing  would  work. 

"  And  so  when  night  come,  I  wrapped  my  old  army  blankit 
around  my  clothes — for  I  was  patched  from  top  to  bottom, 
and  really  ashamed  to  be  seen  by  meetin'  folks — and  away 
we  went,  the  old  woman  a  marchin'  ahead,  and  I  a  follerin' 
arter  her. 

"  When  we  got  there,  the  service  was  jist  commencin'  and 
the  minister  guv  out  a  tex,  and  sed  :  '  What  cum  ye  out  fur 
to  see ;  a  reed  sliakin'  by  the  wind  ?  ' 

"  Now,  stranger,  mebbee  I  was  wrong,  but  this  sort  a  riled  me. 
He  looked  right  at  me  when  he  sed  it,  and  I  kinder  thought 
it  was  a  slur  at  my  agee,  which  hed  made  me  nearly  as  slim 
as  a  reed,  and  which  the  Lord  knows  I  couldn't  help.  My 
wife  seed  I  was  gittin'  mad  like,  and  she  pinched  me  to 
keep  still. 

"  Well,  in  about  fifteen  minutes,  as  true  as  I'm  a  livin'  sin 
ner,  I  felt  the  agee  comin'  on  me  all  to  once,  with  a  full  head 
of  steam !  I  tried  to  put  on  the  brakes,  but  the  durn'd 
thing  was  on  the  down  grade,  and  was  bound  to  make  up 
fur  the  four  days  lost  time.  And  the  minister  kept  all  the 


125 

time  a  yell  in7  out,  '  What  cum  ye  out  fur  to  see  ;  a  reed  shakin' 
by  the  wind  ? ' 

"At  last  I  lied  to  jist  lay  down  in  the  pew  and  let  her  rip  ! 
The  old  woman  was  scared  nearly  to  death,  and  tried  to  git 
me  up  to  take  me  out.  But  every  time  she  tuck  holt  of  me, 
I  shook  her  hands  off  agin  the  side  of  the  pew  until  every 
thing  cracked  agin. 

"  The  thing  kept  a  gittin7  wus  and  wus.  Bimeby  the 
house  begin  to  shake,  and  the  folks  stared  around,  frightened 
like.  Soon  half  the  people  fell  down  upon  their  knees  and 
prayed  for  mercy.  The  preacher  shouted  louder  than  ever : 
1  What  cum  ye  out  fur  to  see ;  a  reed  shakin'  by  the  wind  ? 9 
and  sed  thet  the  '  Lord  wuz  in  the  work  ! ' 

"At  last  the  chimbly — which  the  morter  must  hev  been  a 
gittin7  a  leetle  rottin — cum  a  rattlin7  down  upon  the  ruff ;  and 
then  thescreamin7  was  awful  among  the  wimmin  and  children, 
jist  as  ef  they  thought  a  passel  of  reglar  wild  Injins  was 
around,  a  gunnin7  fur  scalps. 

"  Well,  the  minister  was  a  good  man,  but  he  couldn't  stand 
everything.  When  the  chimbly  kim  a  tearin7  down,  he  jist 
jumped  out  over  the  top  of  the  pulpit,  and  hollered : 

" '  Breetherin7,  truly  has  Satan  power  on  this  yearth ! ' 
And  then  he  broke  fur  the  door,  with  the  hull  crowd  a  fol- 
lerin7,  and  screechin7  like  mad. 

"All  to  once  Deacon  Spooner  happened  to  spy  me  a  layin' 
on  the  floor  as  he  ran  by,  and  he  stopped  and  sung  out : 

"  '  Breethering  and  sistern,  don't  be  skeert.  It's  nobody 
but  Pete  Higgins,  a  shakin7  with  the  Wabash  agee! 7 

"  But  the  meetin7  was  busted  up  fur  that  night,  and  so  was 
the  revival  fur  the  hull  season. 

"  The  old  woman  sort  o7  cussed  me  all  the  way  home,  jist 
as  ef  I  could  help  it.  But  she  was  so  ashamed  to  think  what 
the  hull  neighborhood  would  say,  that  it  made  her  onreason- 


126    ANOTHER  INTERVIEW  WITH  THE 

able  like,  and  as  soon  as  her  cussin'  feelin's  bed  cooled  off,  she 
cried,  and  sed  sbe  was  a  fool,  and  that  it  was  all  her  fault  fur 
askin'  of  me  to  go. 

"  And  now,  mister,"  resumed  the  narrator  of  this  strange 
story,  after  a  few  furtive  glances  at  my  countenance,  "  is  it 
enny  ways  strange  that  I  got  riled  when  you  tried  to  poke  that 
yankee  bummer's  book  onto  me,  about  his  little  agee  !  I  don't 
know  much  in  the  way  of  larnin',  but  there  aint  no  livin' 
man  what  kin  give  me  a  new  wrinkle  about  the  shakes." 

And  thus  saying,  the  Old  Settler  shouldered  his  rifle,  and 
with  something  of  an  injured  and  defiant  air,  strode  out  into 
the  storm. 

But  the  inspiration  of  the  romance  I  had  attempted  went 
out  long  before  he  did,  and  may  now  be  scored  among  things 
lost  to  earth. 


THE  VISION. 


I  AM  sitting  alone,  my  deary — 
Alone,  and  the  rain  patters  down, 
The  world  on  the  outside  is  dreary, 

And  thick  clouds  hang  over  the  town ; 
My  pencil  goes  over  the  paper, 

My  heart  beats  the  bars  of  its  cage, 
And  the  light  from  the  shade  of  my  taper 
Shows  a  tear-drop  or  so  on  my  page. 

A  feeling  of  sadness  comes  o'er  me — 

A  weakness  of  memories  dear, 
For  the  past,  summoned  up  now  before  me, 

Sits  you  by  the  side  of  me  here  ; 
The  light  of  your  dark  eye  is  gleaming, 

In  mine  with  the  love  it  once  bore, 
And  the  years  from  the  mist  of  my  dreaming, 

Loom  up  from  eternity's  shore. 

Thy  hand  in  my  own,  my  once  dearest — 

Thy  kiss  once  again  on  my  brow ; 
Come  closer;  what  is  it  thou  fearest? 

The  danger  is  passed  with  us  now : 
The  faith  you  once  swore  is  now  broken, 

And  we  in  the  world  are  alone — 
And  the  words  that  can  never  be  spoken 

Die  out  in  my  heart  with  a  moan. 

But  yet  with  the  vision  I  linger, 

Its  shadowy  form  by  my  side — 
The  ring  that  I  gave,  on  its  finger, 

With  the  bud  in  its  hair  of  a  bride. 
It  fades  as  my  arms  reach  to  clasp  it — 

It  slowly  dissolves  into  air, 
And  the  hope  that  went  out  to  grasp  it, 

Gives  place  to  the  gloom  of  despair! 


128  JANE   JEKUSHA  SKEGGS. 

I  am  sitting  alone  now,  my  deary — 

Alone,  and  the  rain  patters  down, 
The  world  in  the  darkness  is  dreary, 

And  footsteps  have  ceased  in  the  town ; 
My  pencil  glides  over  the  paper, 

My  heart  beats  the  bars  of  its  cage, 
And  the  glow  through  the  shade  of  my  taper 

Reveals  a  tear-drop  on  my  page. 


JANE  JERUSHA  SKEGGS. 


[The  following  nonsensical,  but  rather  amusing  verses,  I 
wrote  many  years  ago,  for  the  Trenton  True  American.  I 
never  heard  of  their  being  copied  in  any  other  journal  in  this 
country,  but  about  five  years  afterward  they  came  back  across 
the  Atlantic,  in  a  London  periodical  called  "  The  Ladies 
Own,"  as  original.  Of  course  they  then  went  the  "grand 
rounds  "  in  the  land  of  their  birth.  Truly  a  "  poet/'  like  a 
prophet,  has  no  honor  in  his  own  country.] 

IT  is  many  years  since  I  fell  in  love 
With  Jane  Jerusha  Skeggs, 
The  prettiest  piece  of  calico. 
That  ever  went  upon  legs. 

By  meadow,  and  creek,  and  wood,  and  dell, 

So  often  we  did  walk ! 
And  the  moonlight  smiled  on  her  tempting  lips, 

And  the  night  winds  learned  our  talk ! 

Jane  Jerusha  was  all  to  me, 

For  my  heart  was  young  and  true, 
And  I  loved  with  a  double  and  twisted  love, 

And  a  love  that  was  honest,  too ! 


JANE   JERUSHA   SKEGGS.  129 

I  roamed  all  over  the  neighbors'  farms, 

And  robbed  the  wildwood   bowers, 
And  tore  my  trousers  and  scratched  my  hands, 

In  search  of  the  fairest  flowers ! 

In  my  holy  love  I  brought  all  these, 

To  my  Jerusha  Jane, 
But  I  wouldn't  be  so  foolish  now, 
.  If  I  was  a  boy  again ! 

A  city  chap  came  along  one  day, 

All  dressed  up  in  store  clothes, 
With  a  shiny  hat  and  a  shiny  vest, 

And  a  mustache  under  his  nose  ! 

He  asked  her  to  go  to  singing  school, 

(For  her  father  owned  a  farm,) 
And  she  left  me,  her  country  love, 

And  took  the  new  chap's  arm  ! 

And  all  that  night  I  never  slept, 

Nor  could  I  eat  next  day, 
For  I  loved  that  girl  with  a  fervent  love, 

That  nought  could  drive  away  ! 

I  strove  to  win  her  back  to  me, 

But  it  was  all  in  vain  ; 
The  city  chap  with  the  hairy  lip, 

Married  Jerusha  Jane ! 

And  my  poor  heart  was  sick  and  sore, 

Until  the  thought  struck  me, 
That  just  as  good  fish  still  remained, 

As  those  caught  in  the  sea ! 

So  I  went  to  Methodist  Church  one  night, 

And  saw  a  dark  brown  curl, 
Peeping  out  from  under  a  gypsy  hat — 

Well,  I  married  that  very  girl  ! 

And  many  years  have  come  and  gone, 

And  I  think  my  loss  my  gain, 
And  I  often  bless  that  hairy  chap, 

Who  stole  Jerusha  Jane! 


A  TWO  DOLLAR  VISIT  FROM  THE  "OLD 
SETTLER." 


I  "WAS  really  pleased  to  see  him  this  time.  He  had  been 
working  in  a  lumber  camp  up  on  the  Pere  Marquette  for 
six  weeks  past,  and  had  come  home  to  keep  Christmas. 
Being  about  my  only  visiting  neighbor,  I  felt  his  long  absence 
to  be  a  deprivation.  The  most  unpromising  companionship 
is  a  relief  to  one's  loneliness  in  these  regions,  in  the  long 
winter  season,  when  the  deep  snow  coops  one  up  in  his  cabin, 
with  no  resources  either  of  amusement  or  labor.  And  so  I 
gave  him  a  truly  cordial  greeting,  as  he  stepped  over  my 
threshold,  and  with  a  genial  smile  illuminating  his  rugged 
features,  wished  me  a  "  Merry  Christmas,  neighbor !" 

After  relating  to  me  some  of  his  trivial  adventures  in  the 
woods  during  the  winter,  the  Old  Settler  stepped  to  a  corner 
of  the  cabin,  picked  up  my  beautiful  "  Wesson"  rifle,  and 
examined  it  critically. 

"  This  'ere  gun  of  yourn,"  he  remarked,  "  is  a  pretty  thing 
to  look  at,  but  aint  of  no  airthly  account  up  this  way.  It 
carries  about  three  hundred  to  the  pound,  and  you  might  put 
fifty  of  them  little  blue  pills  into  a  right  fat  bear  without 
tetchin'  a  wital  part.  A  good  stiff  side  wind  would  wary 
one  of  them  balls  six  inches  to  the  twenty  rod.  It  may  be  a 
nice  enough  plaything  for  children,  to  them  as  kin  afford  it, 
but  for  real  shootin'  it  ain't  worth  the  powder  to  blow  it  to 
j» 

I  apologized  for  the  offending  weapon,  on  the  ground  that 


131 

It  was  used   in   the  East  simply  for  target  practice  among 
fancy  sportsmen. 

After  a  few  minutes  more  spent  in  ordinary  conversation,  I 
managed  to  get  the  Old  Settler  upon  the  subject  of  his  inter 
esting  experiences  as  a  hunter  in  these  wilds,  one  or  two  of 
which  I  have  concluded  to  preserve  in  this  volume. 

" About  ten  years  ago,  neighbor/'  he  commenced,  "there 
was  a  store  clothes  feller  cum  in  here  from  Shikago  for  a  hunt. 
His  father  owned  the  shingle  mill  at  Pentwater,  and  that's 
the  way  he  happened  to  drift  into  these  parts.  As  mine  was 
the  only  cabin  on  the  Pint,  he  hed  to  bunk  in  with  me.  He 
hed  plenty  of  money,  and  was  to  pay  me  two  dollars  a  day 
for  my  old  jackass  and  me  to  go  a  hunting  with  him. 
Neighbor  Bord,  the  woods  was  full  of  deer  in  them  days,  and 
we  hed  a  way  of  huntin'  'em  at  nights,  which  is  called 
'shinin'  their  eyes.'  I  kin  ony  'splain  it  to  you  this  way. 
Ef  you  ever  looked  under  a  house,  or  a  barn,  when  there  was 
a  cat,  or  a  skunk,  or  any  such  varmint  under  there  in  the 
dark,  you  could  see  nothin'  ony  two  great  shiney  eyes,  what 
looked  like  balls  of  fire. 

"  Well,  us  hunters  used  to  go  out  in  the  woods  a  nights, 
hevin'  a  long  handle  fryin'  pan,  and  wrhen  we  got  to  the 
right  place  we  would  light  a  fire  in  the  pan,  and  one  feller 
would  carry  it  around  on  his  shoulder,  while  the  rest  on  us 
would  foller  on  behind,  with  our  rifles  ready  in  our  hands. 
As  soon  as  we  cum  near  a  deer,  the  cuss  would  stop,  aston 
ished  like,  and  look  right  at  the  blaze.  Then  we  could  see 
two  great  eyes  shinin'  in  the  darkness,  and  takin'  aim  right 
between  them,  was  almost  sartin  to  kill.  We  always  tuck 
my  old  jackass,  which  I  brought  out  with  me  from  Injeeana, 
along,  to  bring  home  the  deer,  ef  we  shot  enny. 

"  Well,  the  fust  night  me  and  the  store  clothes  feller,  and 
the  jackass,  went  out,  this  wus  what  happened :  Of  course 


132     A  TWO  DOLLAR  VISIT  FROM 

he  wanted  to  do  the  shooting  and  so  I  hed  to  carry  the  pan. 
"When  we  got  to  the  feedin'  ground,  we  tied  the  jackass  to  a 
tree,  lit  our  fire,  and  took  a  circle  around.  We  hed  pushed 
around  for  ten  minutes  or  so,  when  all  to  wunst  the  store 
clothes  feller  sung  out  '  stop  !'  I  looked  up,  and  there  within 
ten  paces  was  two  great  starin'  balls  of  fire.  I  know'd  what  it 
all  ment  at  the  fust  glance,  but  before  I  could  holler  for  him 
to  hold  on,  l  bang !'  went  his  durned  old  musket,  and  let  out 
about  a  handful  of  buckshot !  There  was  one  onairthly  bray,, 
that  fairly  shook  the  trees  all  around,  and  made  the  air  shud 
der  like,  and  when  I  run  up,  there  lay  my  poor  old  jackass, 
a  kickin'  of  his  last  kick ! 

"  Well,  neighbor,  I  cussed  that  feller  out  of  seventy-five 
dollars  for  that  jackass,  which  he  wusn't  wuth  twenty,  but 
then  I  was  so  infarnally  mad  that  I  didn't  adzacly  know 
what  I  was  doin'.  He  left  next  mornin'  at  daylight,  and 
I've  never  heern  tell  on  him  since." 

I  laughed  heartily,  at  the  climax  of  this  story,  and  the 
"  Old  Settler  "  seemed  mightily  tickled  at  the  way  I  enjoyed 
it.  I  stepped  to  the  closet  and  handed  him  three  or  four  first 
rate  Havana  segars,  and  invited  him  to  take  a  smoke.  He 
accepted  them  with  an  expression  of  thanks,  craunched  them 
up  fine  in  his  huge  paw,  consigned  the  mass  to  his  tobacco 
pouch,  filled  a  short  dirty  pipe,  and  puffed  away  a  few  mo 
ments  in  silence.  At  last  he  said  : 

"  I  b'lieve  I  never  told  you  about  shootin'  that  bear,  two 
years  ago  last  winter  ?  I  told  it  to  a  newspaper  chap  what  I 
met  at  a  tavern  down  to  Grand  Rapids,  and  he  said  he  would 
put  it  in  print,  and  send  me  a  paper,  but  I  reckon  he  must  hev 
forgot.  Leastwise  I  never  heerd  anything  from  him  since. 

"  One  day  I  was  a  burnin'  brush  in  the  clearin',  when  I 
seed  about  a  thousand  crows,  a  dartin'  in  and  out  of  the  top 
of  a  big  hemlock,  and  keepin'  up  the  awfullest  squallin'  you 


A  TWO  DOLLAR  VISIT  FROM  THE  "OLD  SETTLER."     133 

-ever  lieerd.  I  to  wunst  knowed  there  was  somethin5  up 
more'n  common.  And  so  I  picked  up  my  gun — and  I've  got 
the  same  gun  yit — and  started  for  the  tree.  I  worked  around 
among  the  bushes  ontil  I  got  within  about  twenty  rod  of 
where  the  rumpus  was,  and  on  peepin'  out,  sure  enough  there 
sot  up  in  the  highest  crotch,  an  all  fired  big  bear,  a  real  four 
hundred  pounder.  Fust  one  crow  would  dart  in  on  him,  and 
then  a  half  a  dozen  would  foller,  and  he  kept  a  boxin'  at  'em 
right  and  left,  as  savage  as  a  wild  Ingin.  The  bear  was  so 
busy  a  watchin'  and  fightin'  them  crows,  which  kept  up  the 
cussedest  noise  all  the  time,  that  he  never  looked  anywhere 
else.  I  crawled  up  to  about  eight  rod  of  the  tree,  the  bear 
all  the  time  a  strikin'  out,  fust  at  one  crow,  and  then  at 
another,  without  ever  wunst  suspectin'  of  any  other  danger. 
Bime  by  I  got  tired  of  watchin'  the  fun,  and  so  I  took  aim 
jist  below  the  old  feller's  shoulder,  and  tetched  the  hair 
trigger !  You  ought'er  seen  him  come  down,  head  foremost, 
all  in  heap  like !  He  din'nt  even  kick  nary  time  after  he 
struck  the  ground.  And,  mister,  that  durned  fool  of  a  bear 
thinks  to  this  day  it  was  them  crows  what  killed  him  !  And 
I've  got  the  same  gun  yit !" 

At  the  conclusion  of  this  interesting  recital,  the  "Old 
Settler"  started  up  and  declared  that  he  must  be  going.  As 
he  reached  the  door  he  stopped,  turned  around,  put  his  hand 
searchingly  in  his  pocket,  and  exclaimed : 

"  O,  mister,  I  lik'd  to  hev  forgot.  I  borrered  three  dollars 
off  of  you  to  pay  my  taxes.  I've  got  a  five  dollar  bill  here, 
and  ef  you'll  jist  hand  me  the  change  we'll  settle  that  little 
matter." 

Delighted  at  this  exhibition  of  unexpected  honesty,  on  the 
part  of  one  I  had  so  mistrusted,  I  opened  my  pocket-book, 
and  at  once  handed  him  the  two  dollars.  He  grabbed  the 
amount  with  one  hand,  and  continued  to  fumble  in  his 


134 

pockets  with  the  other.  A  last  he  turned  a  worried  and 
perplexed  look  upon  me,  scratched  his  shaggy  head,  and  said  : 

"  Durn  my  skin  ef  my  old  woman  hain't  and  went  and 
tuck  that  five  dollar  bill  out  of  my  pocket  wrhen  she  was  a 
mendin'  of  my  coat  this  mornin' !  But  never  mind,  neighbor, 
I'll  be  along  agin  in  a  day  or  two,  and  step  in  and  hand  it  to 
you.  But  I  don't  like  sich  tricks,  and  when  I  git  to  home, 
I'll  be  apt  to  raise  particular  thunder  around  the  cabin,  mind 
I  tell  you  !  I  don't  keer  so  much  about  it,  ony  for  the  looks 
of  the  thing.  It's  mortifyin'  to  be  fooled  in  this  way,  but 
I'll  make  it  all  right  when  I  cum  a  long  next  time !" 

And  so  saying  the  "Old  Settler"  shook  his  head  two  or 
three  times,  indignantly,  at  the  thought  of  the  trick  his  "old 
woman  "  had  played  upon  him,  and  walked  off  two  dollars 
richer  then  when  he  entered.  He  hasn't  found  it  convenient 
to  call  with  that  five  dollar  bill  yet ! 


THE  DESERTED  CABIN. 


A     TALE     OF     NORTHERN     MICHIGAN 


"  "1     KNOW  pretty  much  all  about  it,"  said  the  hunter, 
JL  "  and  if  you  wish  to  hear  the  story,  we  will  sit  down 
upon  this  old  hemlock  log  while  I  relate  it." 

We  had  been  on  the  trail  of  a  herd  of  deer  all  day,  with 
out  being  able  to  secure  a  shot,  when  late  in  the  afternoon  we 
came  upon  a  log  cabin  within  sight  of  the  shores  of  Lake 
Michigan.  The  low  roof  had  fallen  in,  the  blackberry  and 
the  raspberry  had  rooted  in  the  earth  between  the  logs,  and 
decay  and  dilapidation  marked  all  its  immediate  surround 
ings.  But  there  were  faint  traces  of  former  flower  beds  be 
fore  the  door,  and  here  and  there  a  vine  of  beauty  and  of 
bloom  struggled  through  the  thick  weeds,  and  entwined 
themselves  around  the  solitary  ruins.  A  woman  of  taste  and 
culture  had  evidently  planted  and  tended  these,  and  it  was 
the  conviction  of  this  fact,  so  rare  in  this  lonely  wilderness, 
that  prompted  me  to  ask  the  hunter  if  he  knew  ought  of  its 
history.  His  response  is  the  commencement  of  this  tale,  and 
he  continued  as  follows  : 

"It  was  twenty  years  ago — long  before  the  cabin  of  a 
single  white  settler  had  been  built  upon  the  lake  shore,  all 
the  way  between  Pentwater  and  Grand  Haven^-when  I  first 
saw  this  cabin.  Chippewa  and  Ottawa  Indians  held  all  the 
vast  country  between  White  River  and  Lake  Superior,  and 
roamed  these  forests  in  pursuit  of  game.  Father  and  I  had 
been  up  in  the  Grand  Traverse  country  trapping  otter  and 


136  THE   DESERTED   CABIN. 

shooting  deer  and  bear.  Early  in  the  spring  we  loaded  the 
canoe  with  our  peltries,  and  commenced  paddling  along  the 
the  lake  shore  for  Chicago,  three  hundred  miles  distant. 
Toward  evening  on  the  fourth  day  down,  a  tremendous  blow 
came  up  out  of  the  northwest.  In  the  far  distance  we  could 
see  the  huge  waves  bearing  down  upon  us,  the  first  one  of 
which  would  have  dashed  us  to  destruction  the  moment  it 
reached  our  little  vessel.  But  we  were  but  about  twenty  pad 
dle  strokes  from  the  shore,  and  we  soon  had  our  boat  and  its 
treasures  high  up  on  the  sandy  beach. 

"  Stranger,  did  you  ever  see  old  Michigan  when  angered  by 
a  hurricane  ?  Well,  it's  a  bully  thing  to  look  upon  from  a 
land  point,  but  woe  to  the  ships  and  sailors  who  are  then 
upon  its  waters !  The  treacherous  old  termagant  is  peaceful 
now,  and  her  bosom  heaves  as  gently  as  that  of  an  infant  in 
its  slumbers.  I  have  seen  it  thus  a  hundred  times,  and  then 
within  an  hour  it  would  begin  to  seethe,  and  boil,  and  foam, 
all  the  waters  of  its  great  depths  seeming  to  be  scooped  up 
into  mountains,  and  hurled  one  at  the  other  by  the  winds  in 
their  fury.  I  have  seen  the  clouds  come  down  until  they 
formed  a  perpendicular  wall,  whose  base  rested  upon  the 
waters  and  its  summit  against  the  sky.  And  all  along,  where 
it  rested  upon  the  lake,  it  was  broken  into  great  caverns, 
whose  horrid  mouths  looked  like  the  black  entrances  to 
eternal  perdition.  And  all  this  comes  with  but  a  moment  of 
preliminary  warning,  and  that  is  the  reason  why  old  Mich 
igan  swallows  up  more  vessels  yearly  than  the  Atlantic  and 
Pacific  oceans  combined,  and  the  dead  of  her  mighty  depths 
are  skeletoned  from  Mackinaw  to  Chicago.  You  may  walk 
her  eastern  shore  for  two  hundred  miles  with  a  wreck  always 
in  sight.  But  I  am  running  away  from  my  story. 

"  Well,  on  securing  our  canoe  we  walked  around  and  soon 
discovered  a  wreath  of  smoke  curling  up  from  among  the 


THE   DESERTED    CABIN.  137 

dark  hemlocks  of  the  dense  forest  that  lined  the  coast.  We 
took  it  for  granted  that  this  was  an  encampment  of  Indian 
hunters ;  but  as  the  Chippewas  and  Ottawas  have  always 
been  treated  kindly  by  our  people,  we  had  no  fears  for  the 
safety  of  ourselves  or  property.  So  we  pushed  at  once  in  the 
direction  of  the  smoke,  and  in  less  than  ten  minutes  came 
upon  this  very  cabin,  whose  silent  ruins  are  now  before  us. 

"  A  huge  deerhound  offered  a  snarling  resistance  to  our 
approach,  which  brought  to  the  door  a  man  and  a  woman, 
whose  appearance  startled  me  into  a  sort  of  awe,  so  strangely 
different  were  they  from  any  human  beings  I  had  ever  looked 
upon  before. 

"  I  was  but  twelve  years  of  age,  born  in  the  wilderness, 
and  had  never  seen  any  other  kind  of  people  than  the  rude 
white  and  red  hunters  on  the  outer  verge  of  civilization. 
The  man  was  apparently  about  twenty-five  years  of  age,  with 
fair  complexion,  dark  hair  and  eyes,  heavy  mustache,  and  the 
rest  of  his  face  cleanly  shaven.  His  clothes  w^ere  of  fine 
texture,  wonderfully  neat,  and  fitted  to  his  well-built  form  in 
a  manner  that  excited  my  wonder  and  "astonishment.  He 
wore  a  ring  upon  his  finger  that  sent  forth  dazzling  flashes  of 
light,  and  a  heavy  gold  chain  led  from  a  vest  button-hole  to 
his  watch  pocket. 

"  The  woman  could  not  have  been  over  eighteen,  and  her 
glossy  brown  hair  fell  carelessly  down  about  a  face  of  such 
wonderful  beauty,  so  sad  and  yet  so  resigned,  that  as  I  gazed 
a  feeling  came  over  me  as  if  I  had  been  in  the  instant  trans 
lated  to  another  world.  I  had  heard  an  old  Catholic  mis 
sionary  among  the  Indians  of  the  Pere  Marquette  country 
describe  the  saints  and  angels  of  Heaven,  and  now  before  me 
was  a  realization  of  what  he  had  drawn.  Boy  as  I  was, 
whose  little  life  had  been  passed  in  the  woods  among  the 
most  reckless  and  desperate  men,  and  who  never  knew  a 

I 


138  THE   DESERTED   CABIN. 

mother's  tenderness  nor  a  sister's  love,  a  holy  feeling  of 
prayer  and  worship  flowed  into  my  soul  as  I  looked  upon  the 
vision  before  me. 

"  My  father  was  an  ignorant  man — could  neither  read  nor 
write — but  as  brave  and  fearless  of  danger  as  any  one  that 
ever  lived.  He  had  seen  his  father  and  mother  killed  and 
scalped  by  the  Iroquois  of  Canada,  and  was  himself  hurried 
off  into  captivity  by  the  band,  and  remained  three  years  with 
the  devils  before  opportunity  for  escape  was  presented. 

"  In  the  woods  every  man's  cabin  is  every  other  man's 
home,  be  he  comrade  or  stranger,  to  enter  without  knocking, 
remain  without  invitation,  and  depart  without  thanks.  But 
the  old  man  was  painfully  abashed  in  the  presence  of  these 
superior  beings.  On  the  invitation  to  enter,  kindly  and  hos 
pitably  spoken,  he  awkwardly  snatched  off  his  coonskin  cap, 
made  a  most  ridiculous  attempt  at  a  bow  to  the  lady,  tried  to 
hide  his  rifle  behind  him  as  though  it  was  out  of  place  in 
such  company,  and  behaved  in  so  grotesque  a  manner,  that, 
forgetting  my  own  awe  for  a  moment,  I  burst  out  in  a  peal 
of  laughter.  The  young  lady  comprehended  the  cause  at 
once,  caught  the  contagion,  and  in  spite  of  every  effort  at 
restraint,  added  her  own  silvery  strains  of  mirth  to  the  hila 
rious  temptation.  This  instantly  brought  my  father  back  to 
his  independent  manhood,  and  giving  me  a  look  that  plainly 
presaged  my  future  punishment,  strode  erect  and  confident 
into  the  cabin. 

"  After  supper  the  stranger  took  father  out  into  the  little 
clearing  to  ask  his  opinion  about  some  contemplated  improve 
ment.  As  soon  as  they  were  gone,  the  lady  came  and  sat 
down  by  me,  and  plied  me  with  questions  all  about  my  his 
tory,  mode  of  life,  and  future  intentions.  As  I  look  at  these 
crumbling  logs,  so  silent  and  yet  so  full  of  speech  to  me,  I 
fancy  I  can  see  her  as  she  sat  right  in  yonder  corner,  twenty 


THE    DESERTED   CABIN.  139 

years  ago,  with  her  dark  blue  eyes  fastened  upon  my  boyish 
face,  so  full  of  a  tender  interest  I  could  not  understand,  while 
her  sweet  womanly  voice — so  unlike  anything  I  had  ever 
heard  or  fancied — poured  forth  the  consolations  of  a  sympa 
thy  I  had  never  known  from  a  human  being  before.  Stranger, 
you  are  looking  (  at  my  eyes,  I  am  not  ashamed  of  their 
moisture. 

"  On  the  return  of  father  and  the  stranger,  the  lady  ap 
proached  the  latter  and  said  : 

"  '  George,  I  want  you  to  go  out  and  fasten  up  that  jessa 
mine  for  me.  The  wind  is  abroad  upon  the  lake  and  will-be 
here  in  all  its  fury  soon.  The  gentlemen  will  please  remain 
until  we  return/ 

"  They  were  gone  perhaps  ten  minutes.  On  re-entering 
the  cabin,  the  man  at  once  asked  father  if  he  would  let  me 
remain  with  them  for  one  year.  He  expected  to  be  away 
a  good  part  of  the  time,  and  needed  some  one  to  do  the  little 
work  required  during  his  absence.  He  could  not  think  of 
leaving  his  wife  all  alone  in  such  a  place.  He  would  pay 
well  for  the  service.  Then  the  lady  came  up,  and  putting 
her  beautiful  little  hand  upon  father's  huge  shoulder,  and 
looking  up  into  his  hard,  brown  face,  with  a  smile  that  could 
win  anything  without  words,  said  : 

"'  You  will  let  the  lad  stay  with  me,  please,  sir?  ' 

"  My  father  was  rough  on  me  sometimes,  for  his  had  been 
a  hard  life,  and  he  was  very  easily  angered.  Once  when  I 
missed  a  bear  at  fifteen  rod,  he  ran  at  me,  and  with  his  flat 
hand  struck  me  on  the  side  of  the  head,  and  sent  me  sprawl 
ing  to  the  ground  fully  ten  feet  from  him.  And  then  the 
flash  of  his  resentment  went  out  in  shame  and  repentance^ 
and  he  hastened  to  me,  and  gathered  me  up  in  his  great  arms, 
and  pressed  me  to  his  bosom,  and  cried,  and  cursed  himself 


140  THE   DESERTED   CABIN.     - 

for  a  cowardly  villain.  My  father  loved  me.  He  had  noth 
ing  else  to  love. 

"  When  the  girl  made  this  appeal,  the  man  stepped  up, 
and  taking  a  handful  of  gold  from  his  pocket,  said  : 

" '  I  will  give  you  one  hundred  dollars  for  the  boy's  ser 
vices  for  one  year,  and  will  pay  you  right  here  in  advance.' 

"  My  father  drew  himself  up  with  a  dignity  and  haughti 
ness  I  had  never  seen  him  exhibit  before. 

"  '  I  will  not  sell  my  child/  he  replied,  '  for  all  the  gold 
that  was  either  honestly  or  dishonestly  come  by.  I  have  tried 
to  say  no  to  this  woman,  but  cannot.  I  am  an  ignorant  man, 
and  have  always  lived  in  the  woods.  But  I  know  that  this 
is  no  place  for  her,  and  that  she  is  troubled  at  heart.  The 
boy  may  remain,  but  neither  he  nor  me  will  touch  your 
money.  He  can  earn  nothing  here  but  his  food  and  clothing. 
To  her  care  I  leave  him.7 

"  The  man  turned  pale  at  this  speech,  and  his  brow  dark 
ened,  but  he  said  nothing.  My  father  looked  him  steadily  in 
the  eye  for  a  full  minute,  turned  slowly  around,  shouldered 
his  rifle,  and  without  looking  at  me,  or  bidding  us  good-bye, 
strode  out  into  the  forest  in  the  direction  of  the  lake,  and  I 
never  saw  him  more.  I  may  tell  you  of  his  tragic  death  on 
some  other  occasion. 

"  My  new  situation  gave  me  new  ideas  of  life,  and  awak 
ened  in  me  an  ambition  that  had  never  before  entered  into 
my  thoughts.  The  lady  loved  me  as  if  I  was  a  lost  brother, 
unexpectedly  restored.  I  feel  certain  now  that  when  she  first 
saw  me  she  traced  a  resemblence  to  some  dear  one  in  her  old 
home  in  the  far  east.  She  soon  taught  me  to  read  and  write ; 
talked  to  me  of  the  lowly  born  and  neglected  who  had  risen 
from  obscurity  in  her  own  land,  and  won  by  the  force  of 
their  genius  wealth,  fame,  power,  and  the  respect  of  a  nation. 
My  youthful  mind  drank  with  eagerness  at  this  new  fountain. 


THE   DESERTED   CABIN.  141 

She  had  books  of  the  lives  of  statesmen,  of  the  discoveries  of 
science,  the  theories  of  philosophers,  the  musings  of  poets. 
Boy  that  I  was,  with  a  mind  heretofore  tutored  only  to  the 
chase,  many  of  these  things  bewildered  me,  but  I  felt  that 
my  intellect  was  being  strengthened  by  the  discipline  of 
thought,  and  I  thirsted  for  further  discoveries  in  the  world  of 
knowledge.  My  preceptress  was  overjoyed  at  my  progress. 
Poor  soul ; — but  few  so  good,  so  beautiful,  so  patient  in  a 
hidden  sorrow,  ever  so  needed  one  source  of  happiness. 

"  She  never  spoke  to  me  of  the  past,  and  never  uttered  any 
complainings  of  the  present.  The  man  was  very  kind  and 
loving  toward  her,  but  I  knew  that  he  had  wronged  her  in 
some  way,  and  I  fairly  hated  him  under  this  suspicion. 
Many  and  many  a  time  have  I  caught  her  in  tears,  which  she 
vainly  strove  to  hide,  and  I  often  felt  my  own  heart  breaking 
over  a  sorrow  I  could  not  comprehend  or  alleviate. 

"  I  have  said  these  two  cultivated  beings,  evidently  of  some 
great  city,  but  now  isolated  in  a  cold  and  inhospitable  wilder 
ness  as  if  they  alone  were  the  inhabitants  of  the  world,  loved 
each  other.  If  you  had  seen  them  as  I  did,  walking  in  the 
forest  paths,  or  along  the  beach  of  the  mighty  lake  when  the 
summer  moon  was  at  its  full,  with  the  soft  waves  breaking 
mournfully  but  musically  at  their  feet,  you  would  have  wit 
nessed  those  sweet  and  tender  endearments  that  are  born  only 
of  love  in  young  hearts,  ere  years  and  the  realities  of  life 
harden  into  formality  and  selfishness. 

"  I  had  been  in  my  new  home  about  six  months,  when  the 
man  began  to  absent  himself  at  longer  and  longer  periods, 
often  remaining  away  two  weeks  at  a  time.  And  the  poor 
lady  would  do  nothing  but  -weep  when  the  day  of  his  ap 
pointed  return  passed  without  his  coming.  She  grew  thin 
and  haggard,  and  a  strange  light  began  to  gleam  in  her  eyes. 
For  on  each  return  the  man  became  more  and  more  gloomy, 


142  THE   DESERTED   CABIN. 

and  at  times  his  irritation  vented  itself  in  harshness  to  the 
being  he  called  wife. 

"  It  was  early  in  September,  toward  the  close  of  a  lovely 
day,  when  the  man  walked  into  the  cabin  from  an  unusually 
long  absence,  and  sat  down  moodily,  with  scarce  a  word  of 
recognition  to  either  of  us.  The  girl  staggered  toward  him, 
fell  upon  her  knees,  and  clasping  her  arms  about  his  neck, 
while  her  wealth  of  hair  almost  buried  his  face  and  fell  upon 
his  shoulders,  sobbed  like  one  lost  to  all  hope.  The  man 
rudely  loosened  her  loving  clasp,  and  arose  to  his  feet.  She 
lowered  her  head  upon  the  vacated  chair  for  a  moment,  sprang 
up,  placed  her  hands  upon  his  shoulders,  and  putting  her 
.sweet  face  close  to  his,  said,  in  a  low,  soft,  tremulous  voice : 

"  '  Walter  Danton,  take  me  home  to  my  mother  !' 

"  The  man  again  repulsed  her,  and  this  time  with  an  oath. 

"  '  Then  I  will  go  alone ! 7  she  exclaimed,  and  in  her  loose 
white  dress,  and  all  bonnetless,  she  turned  and  passed  out 
over  the  threshold  for  the  last  time.  I  noticed  the  wild 
gleam  in  her  eye  as  she  went  forth,  and  my  heart  stood  still 
with  terror. 

"  Fifteen  minutes  passed,  when  the  man  went  to  the  door 
and  peered  uneasily  around. 

"  '  Great  God  of  mercy ! ?  he  fairly  shrieked,  l  she  is  gone ! ' 

"And  then  he  shouted  'Mary!  Mary!7  and  the  hollow 
echoes  sent  back  the  words  in  mockery  of  his  agony. 

"  And  now,  like  a  madman,  he  started  for  the  lake.  I 
followed  in  the  instant,  but  he  far  outstripped  me  in  the  race. 
When  I  reached  the  edge  of  the  forest  I  looked  out  upon  the 
placid  bosom  of  the  waters.  A  quarter  of  a  mile  from  shore 
was  a  skiff,  whose  sail  had  caught  the  breeze,  and  was  mak 
ing  rapid  headway.  A  white  form  stood  erect  in  the  stern, 
and  waved  a  handkerchief  in  farewell  to  an  object  on  the 
shore.  I  rushed  down.  Danton  was  on  his  knees,  shrieking 


THE   DESERTED   CABIN.  143 

most  piteously  for  the  occupant  of  the  boat  to  return.  Then 
he  ran  out  into  the  water,  both  arms  raised  imploringly,  pray 
ing  and  blaspheming  in  his  wild  delirium. 

"  At  this  instant  the  boat  of  a  fisherman  rounded  the  point. 
The  madman  dashed  toward  it,  dragged  the  old  man  out 
into  the  shallow  water,  flung  himself  into  the  skiff,  and  set 
its  prow  towards  the  receding  object. 

"  The  long  level  rays  of  the  setting  sun  flashed  upon  the 
smooth  waters,  and  lit  up  the  scene  with  terrible  distinctness. 
Drawn  against  the  horizon  of  the  wide  waters  was  the  ghostly 
form  of  the  woman,  still  erect  in  the  frail  vessel,  and  the  pur 
suer  could  be  seen  making  frantic  efforts  to  lessen  the  distance 
between  them,  while  his  imploring  cries  still  reached  us  from 
the  distance.  The  sun  went  down,  and  the  twilight  came  on. 
The  foremost  boat  was  swallowed  up  in  the  gloom  and  the 
shadows,  and  the  pursuing  one  was  soon  lost  in  the  advancing 
darkness. 

"  '  It  is  a  good  hundred  miles  across  to  the  Wisconsin 
shore/  said  the  fisherman,  '  and  the  wind  is  coming  down  out 
of  the  north.  Neither  that  man  nor  that  woman  will  ever  be 
seen  alive  again/ 

"  And  they  never  were,  nor  dead  either. 

"  And  ever  on  the  anniversary  of  that  night,  the  fishermen 
say  a  skiff  is  seen  far  out  upon  the  waters,  with  a  white  form 
erect  in  its  bow,  waving  a  farewell  to  a  man  who  is  making 
frantic  gestures  from  the  shore. 

"  And  now,  that  my  story  is  ended,"  said  the  hunter,  in  a 
husky  voice,  "  we  will  push  on  for  the  licks." 


I  MEET  MY  FIRST   'INGIN.3 


Lo!  the  poor  Indian  whose  untutored  mind, 

Takes  whiskey  "straight,"  and  "goes  it"  till  he's  blind  ! 

[Essayed  by  Pope.] 

IN  this  our  broad  county  of  Oceana,  there  can  be  found 
at  this  writing  nearly  two  thousand  Indians — the  rem 
nants  of  the  warlike  tribes  who  once  occupied  all  the  regions 
of  the  great  lakes,  and  whose  history  is  so  stained  with  horri 
ble  atrocities  upon  the  earlier  white  settlers.  My  cabin 
stands  right  in  the  locality  where  Tecumseh,  and  Pontiac,  his 
brother  and  prophet  of  the  tribe,  rallied  the  red  warriors  of 
the  wilderness  for  a  last  struggle  against  the  steady  advances 
of  the  white  invader.  There  is  an  old  Indian  trapper  now 
living  at  Pere  Marquette,  in  the  county  adjoining  us  on 
the  north,  who  made  one  of  the  expedition  that  had  such 
a  fatal  termination  at  the  battle  of  the  Thames,  in  what 
is  now  the  State  of  Indiana.  Col.  Richard  M.  Johnson, 
afterwards  Yice-President  of  the  United  States,  commanded  a 
regiment  of  Kentucky  mounted  rifles  in  that  bloody  struggle 
and  slew  Tecumseh  in  a  hand-to-hand  encounter.  The  facts 
of  this  incident  of  the  battle  may  be  of  interest  to  our  younger 
readers. 

It  was  toward  the  close  of  that  fearful  contest,  when  the 
centre  of  the  British  order  of  battle  had  been  broken  by  u 
desperate  charge  of  Col.  Johnson's  regiment,  and  the  demor 
alized  Indian  allies  on  either  wing  had  fled  and  took  to  the 
woods,  and  got  behind  trees  to  fight  in  their  own  fashion,  that 
Tecumseh  met  his  fate.  Johnson  was  desperately  wounded 


I    MEET    MY   FIRST    "iNGIN."  145 

in  the  victorious  charge,  and  the  splendid  blooded  mare  he 
rode  was  fairly  riddled  with  bullets.  The  brave  Colonel, 
feeling  her  reeling  under  him,  turned  her  head  toward  a  fallen 
tree,  when  in  rounding  the  top  he  found  himself  confronted 
by  a  stalwart  savage,  whose  painted  face  was  rendered  more 
hideous  by  the  blood  that  streamed  down  from  a  deep  sword 
gash  on  the  top  of  his  uncovered  head.  The  chieftain  was  in 
the  act  of  ramming  down  a  bullet  when  the  two  confronted 
each  other,  but  the  weapon  had  become  so  fouled  from  frequent 
discharges  during  the  battle  that  the  ball  could  not  be  sent 
home.  The  savage  threw  the  rifle  from  him,  and  with  a  yell 
of  hate  and  rage  that  would  have  paralyzed  the  nerves  of  a 
less  brave  antagonist,  seized  his  tomahawk  and  hurled  it  at 
his  enemy.  But  at  the  same  instant  Col.  Johnson  snatched 
his  remaining  pistol  from  its  holster,  and  pulled  the  trigger 
full  at  the  broad  breast  of  the  herculean  warrior.  Tecum- 
seh,  who  was  making  a  dash  for  his  enemy,  stopped,  stag 
gered  for  a  instant,  stooped  down,  groping  blindly  for  his  rifle, 
then  drew  his  majestic  form  up  straight  to  the  perpendicular, 
uttered  a  loud  yell  of  defiance,  sprang  upward  into  the  air, 
and  came  down  upon  his  face — dead.  At  the  same  instant 
the  gallant  mare  sank  slowly  upon  her  haunches,  swayed  a 
moment,  and  rolled  over  with  her  rider,  and  died  with  a  few 
feeble  struggles.  It  was  afterwards  ascertained  that  she  was 
pierced  with  sixteen  bullets. 

The  tomahawk  of  the  Indian  had  struck  Col.  Johnson  be 
tween  the  thumb  and  forefinger  of  his  bridle  hand,  and  crip 
pled  it  for  life.  With  his  other  wounds,  he  was  now  helpless, 
and  lay  beside  his  dead  favorite,  until  discovered  by  some  of 
his  men,  and  carried  off  the  field  of  carnage. 

It  seems,  my  beloved,  though  possibly  indignant  reader, 
that  I  can  never  keep  this  erratic  brain  of  mine  to  its  pre 
scribed  and  appointed  task.  When  I  sat  down  to  my  rough 


146 

pine  table  a  few  minutes  since  to  indite  this  sketch,  I  had  no 
thought  that  my  poor  pen  would  scribble  itself  into  the  his 
torical  incident  it  has  just  recorded  from  memory.  I  inked 
it  with  a  view  to  humor.  It  has  strayed  into  a  foughten  field, 
and  returned  in  blood. 

Did  you  ever  know  a  man,  however  deficient  in  voice  or 
tune,  who  did  not  rather  incline  to  the  opinion  that  he  was  a 
pretty  fair  singer  ?  He  may  so  far  doubt  his  endowment  in 
the  gift  musical  as  to  avoid  experimenting  in  public,  and  to 
decline  importunities  to  vocalize  for  the  entertainment  of  a 
social  party ;  but  when  that  chap  gets  by  himself  in  the  soli 
tude,  where  no  man  is,  or  is  not  suspected  to  be,  he  will  give 
mouth  to  some  favorite  song  of  his,  until  the  echoes  mock 
him  back  in  agony.  I  have  been  caught  myself  in  the  delu 
sion  that  there  was  no  listener,  when  a  man,  or  a  woman,  or 
both  together,  would  tarn  a  clump  of  bushes  suddenly  upon 
me,  and  then  for  the  first  time  a  sense  of  the  horrible  discord 
I  was  forcing  into  the  surrounding  space  would  assail  my  bet 
ter  judgment,  and  mortification  would  set  in  at  once.  To  be 
honest  with  you,  the  subscriber  can  neither  sing  or  whistle 
the  simplest  tune  to  save  his  life,  or  his  beloved  country  from 
a  war  with  Spain.  But  in  the  weakness  of  his  vanity  he  has 
at  times  thought  otherwise,  been  caught  in  the  act,  paid  the 
penalty  in  the  derision  of  involuntary  listeners,  and  the  fol 
lowing  incident  is  a  case  in  point : 

One  day  in  the  early  October  of  the  past  year,  when  the 
first  kiss  of  the  dainty  frost  spirit  had  caused  a  crimson  blush 
to  overspread  the  fair  face  of  the  maple  by  my  window,  and 
the  beeches  in  the  ravine  below  turned  yellow  with  envy,  I 
wandered  far  out  into  the  forest,  to  enjoy  the  luxurious  lassi 
tude  which  is  nowhere  so  soothing  as  in  the  wilderness  soli 
tude  by  the  northern  waters  of  Lake  Michigan.  The  winds 
had  retired  to  their  caves,  the  trees  stood  transfixed  in  the 


I   MEET   MY   FIKST    "iNGIN."  147 

breezeless  silence,  and  not  a  leaf  showed  the  pulsation  of 
life.  I  leaned  against  a  huge  hemlock,  that  was  first  rooted 
centuries  before  Columbus  unfolded  his  dreams  of  a  New 
World  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ferdinand  of  Spain.  The  magnifi 
cent  magnitude  of  my  dear  country  stole  gradually  into  my 
meditations,  and  as  my  patriotism  began  to  swell,  and  fret, 
and  foam  for  outward  expression,  I  seized,  with  a  fearful 
roar,  "  The  Sword  of  Bunker  Hill,"  and  knocked  the  solemn 
silence  into  fits  in  an  instant. 

I  had  got  about  half  through  this  melodious  tribute  of 
gratitude  to  oar  "  patriot  sires  and  grandsires  Jioary,"  when 
1  heard  a  voice,  saying : 

"  My  white  brother  sings  like  a  government  mule  ! " 

No  bullfrog  ever  cut  short  his  hoarse  croakings  quicker,  at 
the  sudden  descent  of  a  schoolboy's  brickbat,  than  did  the 
singer — I  myself— at  this  frightful  interruption  !  In  much 
trepidation,  I  turned  my  head,  and  there,  within  ten  feet, 
stood  a  vision  whose  appearance  was  enough  to  startle  a 
strong  minded  woman — or  any  other  man — from  the  inhe 
rent  courage  of  his  nature.  Lo !  a  poor  Inguii  stood  before 
me,  in  all  the  panoply  of  a  red  warrior  of  the  wilderness ! 

But  the  chieftain  did  not  exactly  realize  my  idea  of  the 
traditional  Indian  I  had  read  of  in  my  earlier  days  of  youth 
and  romance,  of  whom  Cooper's  aboriginal  heroes  were  the 
types.  On  the  contrary  quite  the  reverse.  This  Lo's  appear 
ance  would  hardly  do  for  high.  His  coat  looked  as  if  he  was 
on  the  way  to  a  paper  mill.  His  shirt  looked  as  if  it  had 
been  washed  in  a  swill  barrel  and  dried  on  a  gridiron.  There 
had  evidently  been  divers  and  sundry  quilting  frolics  011 
the  seat  of  his  breeches.  There  was  an  irruption  of  black, 
bristly  hair  out  of  the  crater  of  his  crownless  hat.  In  short? 
all  his  externals  indicated  the  gentleman  and  the  scholar,  and 
a  man  who  had  seen  better  days. 


148 

Forcing  an  easiness  of  manner  that  I  was  far  from  feeling, 
I  approached  the  apparition,  and  extending  my  hand  ex 
claimed  : 

"  Philosopher  of  the  woods,  how  fares  it  with  thee  to-day?" 

'•  The  chieftain  round  him  drew  his  cloak,  (only  he  hadn't  any,) 
Folded  his  arms  and  thus  he  spoke :  " 

"  White  man,  if  you  call  me  a  grasshopper  of  the  woods, 
Ingun  put  a  head  on  you  ! " 

I  was  a  mile  from  home,  and  unarmed.  The  offended 
chieftain  held  a  rifle  in  one  hand,  and  a  recently  killed  skunk 
in  the  other.  My  offence  was  rank,  and  smelled  to  Heaven, 

So  did  the  skunk. 

I  do  not  think  I  would  have  blanched  before  his  rifle,  for 
I  had  been  a  warrior  myself,  per  a  six  hundred  dollar  substi 
tute,  in  the  war  of  the  rebellion.  But  the  sight  of  that 
skunk,  and  the  odor  in  which  he  was  enpanoplied,  suggested 
diplomacy.  A  happy  precedent  had  been  elaborated  by 
divers  of  the  present  congress.  I  will  try  a  little  credit  mo- 
bilier  upon  this  representative  of  his  people. 

With  me,  action  follows  resolve,  even  as  the  thunder  booms 
upon  the  lightning.  I  drew  forth  my  pipe,  matches,  and 
tobacco  pouch.  The  irate  barbarian  shook  his  head,  and  also 
his  skunk  likewise. 

Then  in  my  other  pocket  did  I  explore,  and  brought  out 
a  beautiful  four  blacled  knife. 

I  saw  a  sign  of  relenting  in  his  dark  eye,  trimmed  though 
it  was  with  lids  the  edges  of  which  looked  like  red  ferreting* 

He  laid  down  his  rifle,  but  advanced  a  step  nearer  with  his 
skunk,  and  swung  it  around,  as  I  have  seen  a  censor  swung 
at  a  religious  ceremony.  Only  the  effect  was  different. 

If  I  must  die,  I  preferred  the  rifle. 


I    MEET   MY    FIRST    "iNGIN."  149 

But  one  more  credit  mobilier  argument  remained.  I  pulled 
out  my  pocket-book,  and  laid  its  last  greenback  upon  the 
heap  of  peace  offerings. 

"  It  is  well,"  said  the  chieftain,  as  he  "  raked  in  the  pile/7 
"  and  my  white  brother  can  depart  in  peace  to  his  kindred. 
The  wife  of  Come-It-Strong  is  weeping  in  his  lodge  ;  for  the 
venison  is  all  eaten,  and  the  fire-water  is  as  the  early  dew 
which  the  sun  drinketh  up,  and  it  is  not.  The  gifts  of  my 
white  brother  are  to  my  heart  like  the  strong  drink  that  com- 
eth  from  Chicago,  and  which  eateth  through  the  staves  of  the 
barrel." 

Overcome  by  his  unwonted  emotions,  the  child  of  Nature 
lifted  the  skunk  to  his  eyes, 

"And  wiped  away  a  tear!" 

He  then  put  straight  out  into  the  forest,  like  a  green-tailed 
fly  from  a  sugar  house. 

Dearly  beloved,  your  correspondent  is  not  singing  so  much 
in  the  woods  as  he  used  to  ! 


THE  SPECTRE  OF  THE  HEMLOCK  GORGE. 


AT  any  time  it  was  a  place  to  be  avoided  by  persons  of 
average  imagination,  or  superstitious  inclinings.     But 
it  was  a  very  careless  or  a  very  courageous  foot  that  would 
willingly  enter  upon    its    paths  when  the  night   had  come 
down  upon  its  natural  gloom  and  unbroken  solitude. 

The  gorge  was  not  over  one  hundred  feet  in  width,  but 
gazed  into  from  the  low  ridge  on  either  side,  the  effect  was 
anything  but  pleasant  and  inspiring.  The  great  trees  that 
grew  up  from  its  depths  scarcely  raised  their  tops  to  the  outer 
surface,  and  their  density  gave  a  darkness  to  noonday  beneath. 
These  trees  were  all  of  the  gloomy  hemlock.  The  sojonrner 
amid  the  forests  of  Northern  Michigan  can  now  easily  under 
stand  the  lonely  and  awe-inspiring  features  of  the  gorge  into 
which  I  am  attempting  to  lead  my  readers. 

It  ran  parallel  to  the  Great  Lake,  and  but  a  short  distance 
from  its  moaning  and  troubled  waters.  And  when  the  winds 
were  out  in  their  fury,  and  swept  through  the  gorge  with  ir 
resistible  and  invisible  wings,  the  roar  that  came  up  from  its 
depths,  and  went  out  into  the  surrounding  forest,  almost 
silenced  the  great  waves  that  broke  upon  the  adjacent  shore. 

Is  it  any  wonder,  then,  that  the  traditions  of  the  few  scat 
tered  settlers  had  invested  the  spot  with  ghostly  disembodied 
spirits,  whose  shrieks  added  to  the  horrors  of  the  midnight 
tempests  ? 

The  gorge  was  of  easy  entrance  on  the  south,  but  difficult 
of  egress  on  the  north.  A  narrow  deer  path  ran  through  itf 
but  few  were  the  hunters  who  cared  to  tread  its  dark  maze  in 


THE   SPECTRE    OF   THE   HEMLOCK    GORGE.  151 

pursuit  of  game.  The  experiment  had  been  tried  by  one  or 
two  of  the  few  adventurers  who  occasionally  came  down  from 
the  islands  of  the  upper  lake,  when  the  deer  and  bear  had 
been  driven  southward  by  the  Ottawa  and  Chippewa  bands, 
in  their  annual  expeditions  from  St.  Marie  and  Huron.  But 
it  is  said  that  none  of  such  adventurers  ever  passed  out  at  the 
other  extremity,  but  quickly  returned  with  mortal  fear  de_ 
picted  upon  their  faces.  Even  the  gaunt,  fierce  Indian  wolf 
dogs  came  howling  out  in  advance  of  their  retreating  masters, 
with  blood-shot  eyes  and  piteous  whines  that  told  of  super 
natural  alarms. 

These  facts  had  been  so  generally  related  to  me  by  the  set 
tlers,  that  at  last  my  ridicule  at  the  idea  gave  place  to  a  desire 
to  learn  from  some  more  intelligent  source,  or  by  personal  ex 
ploration,  the  true  basis  of  this  local  superstition. 

I  could  not  venture  alone  without  danger  of  getting  lost, 
and  I  was  hardly  prepared  to  let  any  one  of  my  three  more 
immediate  neighbors  into  the  secret  of  a  curiosity,  that  argued 
a  sort  of  half-defined  credulity  of  which  I  was  really  ashamed. 

And  so  the  matter  rested  until  the  beautiful  northern  sum 
mer  had  past,  and  the  early  November  snows  came  down 
softly  upon  the  earth,  and  covered  the  autumnal  leaves  with  a 
garment  of  purity  and  beauty. 

The  subject  of  the  gorge  and  its  mystery  had  almost  lost 
their  hold  upon  my  curiosity,  when  one  afternoon  the  hunter 
— he  who  had  told  me  the  story  of  the  deserted  cabin — 
chanced  to  be  passing  by.  I  hailed  him  and  he  walked  in. 
He  informed  me  that  he  was  on  his  way  to  the  old  trapping 
grounds  near  the  head  of  the  lake,  on  the  Wisconsin  side,  in 
which  neighborhood  he  expected  to  pass  the  winter.  I  in 
vited  him  to  stay  all  night  and  take  a  fresh  start  in  the  morn 
ing.  He  modestly  accepted  the  suggestion,  observing  that  he 
had  walked  about  thirty  miles  since  daylight,  and  as  the 


152  THE    SPECTKE    OF   THE    HEMLOCK    GORGE. 

snow  had  hidden  the  smaller  logs  of  the  forest,  pushing  his 
way  over  -and  among  them  was  difficult  and  toilsome  work, 
and  that  he  really  felt  tired  and  exhausted. 

In  due  time  a  smoking  supper  of  broiled  venison  and 
roasted  potatoes — bread  being  among  one  of  the  occasionals 
of  my  wilderness  home — was  ready  to  be  disposed  of,  and 
with  glorious  appetites,  braced  by  abstinence  since  morning 
we  two  drew  up  to  the  table,  and  silently  thanking  the  Giver 
of  all  good,  proceeded  to  feast  upon  His  bounties.  These 
fully  indulged  in,  but  without  gluttony,  prepared  us  for  a 
pleasant  evening  of  social  intercourse,  and  a  sound  and  in 
vigorating  sleep  when  weary  eyelids  droop  responsive  to  a 
law  of  nature. 

Day  had  now  renounced  its  sceptre  to  the  hand  of  dark 
ness,  and  the  night  drew  its  shadows  around  our  little  world 
without,  until  neither  wood  or  clearing  could  be  distinguished 
in  the  more  remote  distance.  We  drew  our  chairs  to  the 
bright  and  cheerful  fire,  filled  our  pipes,  and  conversed  for  a 
while  on  the  usual  indifferent  subjects  of  local  gossip.  These 
exhausted,  I  at  last  ventured  to  inquire  of  my  usually  silent, 
but  intelligent  visitor,  ic  reference  to  the  dreaded  gorge  and 
its  accredited  mystery. 

The  hunter  looked  up  at  me  with  a  quick  movement,  as  if 
to  observe  if  my  request  was  a  jesting  one,  or  instigated  by  a 
real  interest  in  what  most  men  of  reading  and  observation 
would  at  once  set  down  as  an  idle  and  absurd  tale,  hatched  in 
the  undisciplined  imagination  of  ignorant  and  superstitious 
woodmen.  Then,  with  the  faintest  evidence  of  a  smile  play 
ing  around  his  mouth,  he  remarked  : 

"  And  so  you  have  heard  of  the  hemlock  gorge,  and  what 
is  generally  believed  to  be,  here  among  the  settlers,  its 
ghostly  inhabitant  ?  AVell,  you  will  doubtless  laugh  at  my 


THE   SPECTRE   OF   THE    HEMLOCK    GORGE.  153 

strange  recital,  as  I  would  myself  if,  unknowing  the  facts,  I 
listened  to  them  from  the  lips  of  another." 

Here  the  hunter  took  a  few  vigorous  whiffs  at  his  pipe  by 
way  of  finishing  its  contents,  knocked  out  the  ashes,  returned 
it  to  his  pouch,  and  began  : 

"  A  dozen  or  so  years  ago,  before  the  hundreds  of  Chicago 
lumbermen  came  into  these  parts,  deer  and  bear  abounded  in 
great  numbers,  and  this  section  of  the  lake  shore  was  consid 
ered  by  hunters  and  trappers  as  one  of  the  best  for  their  calling 
in  all  Northern  Michigan.  There  was  not  a  single  permanent 
settler  for  many  miles  around,  and  not  a  ten  acre  clearing  in- 
all  which  is  now  called  Benona  Township. 

"I  used  to  come  out  here  then  every  winter,  with  a  single 
comrade  and  partner.  He  was  a  Canadian-Frenchman  named 
LeClerc,  and  the  most  cunning  hunter  and  trapper  I  ever 
met  with,  and  that  is  saying  a  great  deal  in  his  favor.  He 
seemed  instinctively  to  understand  the  habits,  and  the  lurking 
places  of  all  the  animals  of  the  water  and  the  woods,  and  he 
would  follow  the  trail  of  other  hunters,  who  would  go  miles 
without  seeing  horn,  hoof,  or  hide,  and  LeClerc  would  return 
laden  with  the  trophies  which  had  entirely  escaped  their 
keenest  observation. 

"  But  the  old  man  was  terribly  profane,  both  in  his  native 
and  acquired  language.  But  for  swearing  he  always  seemed 
to  prefer  the  French,  until  the  supply  was  exhausted,  and 
then  he  would  replenish  his  impoverished  vocabulary  by  copi 
ous  draughts  upon  the  hardest  English  expletives. 

"  But  he  was  a  truly  brave  veteran  of  the  woods,  and  as 
warm-hearted  and  sympathetic  as  a  woman-,  in  any  emer 
gency  that  appealed  to  tenderness.  He  finally  died,  his 
broken  rifle  by  his  side,  knife  in  hand,  and  a  dead  bear's  teeth 
closed  around  his  lacerated  jugular.  But  this  is  not  the 
story  you  wish  to  hear  to-night, 

K 


154  TPIE  SPECTEE   OF   THE   HEMLOCK    GORGE. 

"  I  had  heard  something  of  the  haunted  gorge,  from  the 
lips  of  old  trappers  and  hunters,  who  had  come  down  to 
Grand  Eapids  in  the  spring  to  dispose  of  their  winter  spoils. 
But  as  such  stories  were  common  around  the  lodge  fires,  and 
were  always  listened  to  by  the  younger  men  with  an  honest 
belief  that  the  most  extravagant  exaggeration  could  not  im 
pair,  I  listened  to  them  only  for  the  amusement  of  an  idle 
hour.  But  as  one  or  two  men  of  hardier  judgment,  more 
truthful,  and  of  less  vivid  imagination,  solemnly  assured  me 
that  they  had  personally  been  confronted  by  the  spectre,  I 
became  interested  in  the  question,  and  resolved  to  embrace 
the  first  opportunity  to  seek  an  introduction  to  the  supposed 
apparition. 

"  The  season  I  came  out  here  with  old  LeClerc,  we  built 
our  lodge  within  a  mile  of  the  haunt  of  the  dreaded  spectre, 
and  the  second  morning  after  our  arrival  we  shouldered  our 
rifles,  uncoupled  our  hounds,  and  started  for  the  gorge.  I 
observed  that  the  face  of  the  old  man  wore  a  serious  and 
troubled  look,  and  that  not  a  single  profane  expression  had 
broken  from  his  lips  during  the  entire  morning.  I  verily 
believe  that  but  for  fear  of  having  his  established  bravery  ques 
tioned,  which  was  his  only  pride,  he  would  have  flatly  refused 
to  have  accompanied  me  in  what  must  turn  out  either  a  silly 
or  a  frightful  adventure.  But  the  old  hunter  had  the  nat 
ural  weakness  of  men  of  our  calling  and  habits,  and  as  he 
bore  the  conceded  reputation  of  '  fearing  neither  man  or 
devil/  to  flinch  now  from  the  side  of  a  comrade,  in  dread  of 
a  ghost,  would  furnish  a  text  for  ridicule  around  all  the  camp- 
fires  along  the  lake  shore. 

"As  soon  as  we  reached  the  entrance  of  the  gorge,  the 
hounds  broke  out  in.  full  cry,  and  went  in  on  a  run.  A 
herd  of  five  deer  had  not  been  a  half  hour  ahead  of  us.  Le 
Clerc  at  once  caught  the  excitement  so  natural  to  the  occasion? 


THE   SPECTRE   OF   THE   HEMLOCK    GORGE.  155 

and  with  a  shout  of  encouragement  to  the  hounds,  sprang 
past  me,  and  with  rapid  step  pushed  forward  upon  the  trail. 

"  The  first  excitement  of  the  chase  over,  my  attention  was 
attracted  to  the  strange  features  of  the  place  we  were  treading. 
The  sides  were  almost  perpendicular,  while  high  above  us 
the  mighty  hemlocks  leaned  over  the  abyss,  their  mingled 
tops  forming  so  close  a  cover,  that  not  one  ray  of  sunshine 
could  break  in  upon  the  solemn  gloom  by  which  we  were  en 
shrouded.  Of  course  it  was  the  fever  of  imagination,  but  I 
did  fancy  that  I  felt  the  fanning  of  invisible  wings  in  the 
motionless  air,  and  a  rank,  graveyard  odor  seemed  to  ooze 
out  from  the  sides  of  the  gorge,  and  to  rise  up  from  the 
mouldering,  rotten  vegetation  into  which  our  feet  sank  at 
every  step.  I  had  heard  of  the  valley  and  the  shadow  of 
death,  and  here  seemed  the  fearful  realization  of  it  in  the 
wilderness,  and  upon  the  earth. 

"  To  tell  the  truth,  a  fear  to  which  I  had  heretofore  been 
a  stranger,  began  to  usurp  possession  of  my  faculties.  But 
the  old  man  had  become  so  absorbed  in  the  hunt,  and  in 
listening  to  the  baying  of  the  dogs,  that  he  seemed  to  have 
entirely  forgotten  all  his  previous  misgivings,  his  present 
surroundings  of  a  superstitious  nature,  and  began  to  let  loose 
his  restrained  profanity  with  prodigal  volubility. 

"  He  had  just  delivered  himself  of  a  shocking  malediction 
against  a  hidden  root,  over  which  he  had  stumbled,  when  a 
low,  whimpering  cry  was  heard  a  short  distance  ahead,  and  a 
moment  thereafter  both  dogs  came  bounding  toward  us, 
shivering  in  an  agony  of  fear,  and  crouched  down  behind  Le- 
Clerc,  who  was  about  a  dozen  yards  in  advance  of  where  I 
stood.  The  old  man,  who  had  been  closely  observing  the 
trail  from  the  time  of  our  first  entering,  raised  his  eyes  at 
this  singular  action  of  his  petted  and  favorite  animals,  and 


156  THE   SPECTRE   OF   THE   HEMLOCK   GORGE, 

looked  straight  ahead  in  the  direction  from  which  they  had 
so  unexpectedlycome. 

"  I  shall  never  fully  free  my  vision  from  the  scene  which 
followed  this  sudden  action  of  the  old  hunter.  In  an  instant 
he  stood  as  one  petrified.  His  rifle  dropped  from  his  hand 
and  rattled  against  a  stone.  I  could  not  see  his  eyes,  but  I 
knew  that  some  horrible  fascination  had  riveted  their  gaze. 
I  hastened  to  his  side  as  fast  as  the  little  power  of  motion 
left  me  would  permit.  He  raised  his  right  arm  slowly  from 
his  side,  pointed  up  the  gorge,  and  sank  down  upon  the 
ground. 

"I  looked  in  the  direction  indicated.  About  a  hundred 
feet  in  advance,  between  two  dead  hemlock  trees,  stood  a 
figure  completely  enveloped  in  a  black  shroud.  It  was 
motionless,  but  erect.  The  outlines  were  unmistakably 
human.  Strange  to  say,  my  terror  had  in  a  measure  left  me 
the  moment  the  object  was  discerned,  and  my  faculties  of 
observation  seemed  rather  sharpened  than  impaired.  I  tried 
every  mode  of  reasoning  that  would  assist  to  the  belief  that 
what  I  saw  was  rather  an  illusion  than  a  reality.  It  would 
not  do.  The  dreadful  apparition  was  too  palpable,  too  well- 
defined,  too  distinct  from  the  nature  of  all  of  its  surround 
ings,  to  be  classed  with  any  real  substance.  Even  as  I 
looked,  it  sank  slowly  into  the  ground,  then  as  slowly  rose 
up  to  its  former  proportions ;  a  shadowy  arm  protruded 
through  the  shroud,  pointed  to  a  spot  on  the  side  of  the 
precipice  close  to  the  floor  of  the  gorge,  the  arm  slowly 
shraiik  back  beneath  its  covering,  and  then  the  object  gradu 
ally  melted  away  and  was  gone  ! 

"  I  looked  around  upon  my  companion.  He  was  sitting 
up,  and  had  evidently  witnessed  all  that  I  had  myself  seen. 
His  face  was  very  pale,  but  a  more  subdued  expression  by 


THE   SPECTRE   OF   THE   HEMLOCK   GORGE.  157 

far  was  upon  his  features  than  I  had  ever  seen  there  before. 
At  last  he  said : 

"'Comrade,  we  will  not  now  talk  about  what  we  have 
just  witnessed.  Let  us  return.  To-morrow  we  will  come 
here  again,  and  examine  the  spot  to  which  the  spirit  pointed. 
Take  your  hatchet  and  blaze  this  tree.  Then  we  shall  be 
certain  of  the  place.' 

"  Neither  of  us  had  any  appetite  for  supper  that  night,  and 
the  small  hours  of  the  morning  were  upon  us  ere  v/e  ven 
tured  to  seek  repose  in  sleep.  The  dogs  lay  stretched  before 
the  fire,  but  were  as  wakeful  as  their  masters,  whining 
piteously  at  intervals,  as  though  disturbed  by  some  invisible 
intruder. 

"  But  the  weary  hours  of  the  night  dragged  their  slow 
length  along,  and  the  wished  for  day  dawned  at  last.  A  few 
mouthfulls  of  cold  venison,  eaten  without  appetite,  sufficed 
for  our  breakfast,  and  the  sun  was  just  coming  up  out  of 
the  east  as  we  started  on  our  journey  to  try  to  investigate  the 
ghostly  mystery  of  the  previous  day.  We  walked  on,  slowly 
and  in  silence,  over  the  intervening  mile.  The  i  blazed7  tree 
was  soon  found,  and  then  we  approached  the  two  old  hem 
locks,  between  whose  dead  trunks  the  vision  had  been  discov 
ered. 

"  I  stepped  at  once  to  the  spot  on  the  side  of  the  precipice 
to  which  it  had  pointed,  and  commenced  the  examination. 
Nothing  unusual  was  to  be  seen,  from  the  first  curious  glance 
we  cast  around.  We  were  beginning  to  look  upon  the  affair 
as  a  delusion,  or  some  natural  phenomenon  that  had  deceived 
our  heated  senses,  and  I  commenced  joking  LeClerc  about 
our  childish  fancies.  But  to  be  more  fully  satisfied  on  this 
point,  I  turned  my  face  toward  the  dead  hemlocks,  to  see  if 
we  had  the  right  range  of  the  spot  toward  which  the  spectre 
had  pointed. 


158  THE   SPECTRE   OF   THE    HEMLOCK    GORGE. 

"And  there  it  stood  again,  right  within  ten  feet  of  us,  its 
shrouded  figure  so  clearly  defined,  as  to  remove  all  doubt  of 
the  perfection  of  our  senses !  I  touched  my  comrade  upon 
the  arm.  He  looked  up,  and  his  eyes  followed  the  direction 
of  my  own.  Even  as  we  stood,  in  breathless  silence,  and 
gazed  in  awe,  a  shadowy  arm  gradually  protruded  from  the 
shroud,  and  pointed  to  the  spot  upon  which  we  stood ! 

"  It  is  strange,  but  neither  of  us  were  in  the  least  shaken 
with  fear.  A  solemn  sense  of  some  dread,  but  unknown  duty 
devolving  upon  us,  was  the  only  sensation  by  which  we  were 
affected. 

"  In  a  few  moments  the  spectre  slowly  faded  away,  as  on 
the  day  previous.  Then  LeClerc  took  the  muzzle  of  his  rifle 
and  parted  the  low  bushes,  and  matted  vines,  that  had  grown 
out  of  the  side  of  the  slope,  where  it  rested  on  the  bottom  of 
the  gorge.  And  then  the  discovery  was  made. 

"  The  mouth  of  a  cave,  about  twenty  inches  in  diameter, 
right  in  front  of  which,  and  pressing  against  it,  was  the  body 
of  a  young  hemlock,  of  about  a  dozen  years  growth.  A 
quantity  of  decayed  branches,  leaves,  &c.,  partially  filled  the 
mouth  of  the  cavern,  and  these,  with  the  tree  in  front,  inter 
fered  with  our  explorations.  But  we  had  our  hatchets  with 
us,  and  it  took  but  a  few  minutes  to  bring  the  tree  to  the 
ground.  The  accumulated  rubbish  was  easily  removed,  and 
the  feet  and  skull  of  a  ghastly  human  skeleton  were  revealed  ! 
A  pair  of  pantaloons,  and  a  shirt,  still  clothed  the  rest  of  the 
skeleton  in  their  rotten  folds.  A  hat  lay  on  the  bottom  of 
the  cave.  On  examining  this,  we  discovered  a  piece  of  paper 
inside,  which  had  evidently  been  torn  from  the  inner  lining 
of  the  hat.  On  this  was  written  with  a  pencil  the  following, 
which  we  found  but  little  difficulty  in  deciphering,  the  cave 
being  of  sandy  formation,  and  removed  from  all  damp  sur 
roundings.  The  lines  read  thus  : 


THE   SPECTRE   OF   THE   HEMLOCK   GORGE.  159 

"  '  I  know  that  I  am  dying,  and  I  feel  that  an  angry  God 
is  here.  In  my  life  I  scoffed  at  His  name,  and  derided  His 
promises  and  His  threatenings.  In  my  dying  hour  He  has 
closed  his  mercy  against  me.  Hope  is  gone  forever,  and  a 
black  eternity  opens  before  me.  Should  my  remains  be 
discovered,  the  prayer  of  a  dying  wretch  is,  that  they  may  be 
removed  to  the  burying  grounds  of  some  Christian  church. 

'"  January,  1851.' 

"  Upon  after  inquiry,  I  learned  that  in  the  same  month  of 
the  same  year  a  vessel  had  been  wrecked  on  the  coast  near  by 
the  gorge,  and  it  was  supposed  that  all  hands  had  perished. 
There  is  little  doubt  that  one  of  the  passengers  had  reached 
the  shore,  wandered  into  the  uninhabited  wilderness,  and 
finally  crept  into  this  cave,  and  perished  of  cold  and  ex 
haustion. 

"  We  left  the  skeleton  precisely  as  we  had  found  it,  and 
returned  to  camp.  After  supper  we  discussed  the  matter  be 
tween  us,  and  agreed  upon  a  plan  of  action.  There  was  a 
little  log  Methodist  Church  at  Pentwater,  about  twelve  miles 
distant,  and  we  resolved  to  start  with  the  remains  the  next 
day,  and  comply  with  the  last  request  of  the  unhappy  stranger. 

"  In  the  morning  we  found  it  impossible  to  get  material  to 
make  a  box,  and  so  we  took  one  of  our  blankets,  went  back 
to  the  cave,  carefully  removed  the  skeleton,  wrapped  it  up  in 
the  blanket,  carried  it  to  the  beach,  deposited  it  in  our  log 
canoe,  and  rowed  for  Pentwater. 

"It  was  growing  dark  when  we  reached  our  destination,  for 
the  lake  was  up  in  its  wrath,  and  what  little  headway  we 
could  make  was  amid  the  greatest  dangers.  We  saw  no  one 
on  our  way  to  the  little  graveyard,  for  it  was  some  consider 
able  distance  from  the  half  dozen  huts  that  composed  the  set 
tlement.  With  our  paddles  we  soon  dug  a  hole  of  sufficient 
depth  in  the  sandy  soil,  deposited  the  remains,  and  covered 


160  THE   SPECTRE   OF   THE   HEMLOCK    GORGE. 

them  from  sight.  Then  the  old  man  grasped  me  by  the 
hand,  and  said : 

"  '  Comrade,  I  need  not  tell  you  that  I  have  been  a  very 
wicked  man,  and  of  violent  deeds  and  of  blaspheming  tongue. 
What  you  and  me  have  recently  witnessed,  is  a  warning  from 
Heaven  to  us  both.  Henceforth  and  forever  I  renounce  my 
evil  ways,  so  far  as  grace  is  given  me  to  resist  temptation, 
and  I  know  that  prayer  is  mighty  and  will  prevail.  Let  us 
pray  for  the  dead/ 

"And  we  kneeled  down  upon  the  new  made  grave  of  the 
stranger,  and  the  old  man  poured  forth  a  fervent  supplication, 
with  a  sincerity  of  soul  that  I  fear  is  seldom  heard  in  the 
great  churches  of  your  eastern  cities.  And  then  we  arose  and 
departed  for  our  boat,  better  men  than  we  had  ever  been 
before. 

"  I  never  heard  a  profane  word  from  the  lips  of  LeClerc 
afterward,  nor  even  a  momentary  ebullition  of  anger  at  any 
trivial  annoyance.  And  his  changed  deportment  had  a  won 
derful  influence  upon  the  rude  men  of  the  wilderness,  with 
whom  he  associated,  for  they  knew  there  was  none  of  the 
sham  of  hypocrisy  in  the  rough  old  French  hunter.  That  is 
a  vice  that  only  pays  where  there  is  '  refined  society.7 

"  And  now/7  said  the  hunter,  after  a  short  pause,  and  turn 
ing  his  clear  honest  blue  eyes  full  upon  my  face,  "  of  course 
you  don't  believe  my  strange  story.  I  cannot  ask  you  to.  I 
would  not  believe  it  myself,  had  it  been  told  me  by  another. 

"  And  yet,"  he  added,  after  musing  a  few  moments,  "  the 
human  mind,  in  the  learned  or  ignorant,  the  profane  as  well 
as  the  pious,  is  always  moved  to  cither  clear  or  doubtful 
credulity  at  stories  of  the  supernatural.  And  how  can  there 
be  belief  in  that  which  is  impossible  ?  There  can  be  no  super 
structure,  material  or  spiritual,  without  foundation.  There 
fore  I  hold  that  the  mere  fact  that  our  race,  savage,  barbaric, 


THE   SPECTRE   OP   THE       EMLOCK   GORGE.  161 

•or  christianized,  all  have  their  superstitions,  is  proof  positive 
of  a  Divine  cause  that  produces  this  universal  effect.  I  go 
further  and  say  that  all  of  mental  action  is  from  God.  That 
man  may  pervert  and  misdirect  is  another  question.  But 
there  can  be  no  superstition  without  a  reality  for  its  basis. 
If  the  dead  do  not  live  again  we  could  not  think  they  do." 

The  hour  was  now  late,  and  we  retired.  It  was  long  before 
sleep  broke  in  upon  the  meditations  which  the  hunter's  story 
had  set  in  action. 

Dear  reader,  there  are  more  things  in  Heaven  and  Earth 
than  are  dreamed  of  in  your  philosophy. 


MY  MOTHER. 


TP  IS  but  a  week  ago  to-day 

JL     My  mother  passed  from  earth ; 
I  cannot  weep,  I  cannot  pray, 

Yet  never  grief  had  sadder  birth. 

Adown  the  gloom  of  weary  years, 
My  pilgrim  memory  takes  its  way ; 

It  passes  shrines  bedewed  with  tears, 
Forgotten  till  this  judgment  day. 

I  see  a  little  head  at  rest — 

A  little  baby  boy  in  sleep 
Upon  a  youthful  mother's  breast, 

Whose  joy  is  voiceless  deep. 

Again  the  shadows  slowly  lift, 

From  out  the  gloom  of  the  dead  years, 
And  where  the  sunlight  throws  its  drift, 

That  boy,  a  man  appears. 

And  sin  and  shame  is  on  his  brow, 
A  lifeless  life  of  crime  and  wrong  ; 

Forgot,  or  broken  every  vow 
He  learned  in  cradle  song. 

O !  mother,  to  thy  hairs  of  gray 

Thy  child  brought  little  else  than  grief; 

God  pity  those  who  thus  repay 
The  love  beyond  belief! 

And  here,  all  stripped  of  passion's  power, 
I  kneel  beside  thy  new-made  grave, 

And  plead  His  grace — O  !  sacred  dower ! — 
The  grace  to  bless  and  save ! 

Send  earthward  from  Thy  holy  throne 

The  balm  that  saves  the  soul  from  pain- 
Bereft,  sad,  penitent,  alone — 

Let  child  and  mother  meet  again  ! 


THE    'OLD  SETTLER"  GOES  TO  CHURCH 
IN  FULL  DRESS. 


IT  had  been  announced  that  on  the  following  Sabbath  a 
sermon  would  be  preached  in  our  little  school-house,  and 
so  unusual  an  event  created  no  little  stir  among  the  few  set 
tlers  of  the  Ridge.  The  matrons  hunted  up  the  old  fashioned 
linen  caps  that  they  had  brought  with  them  from  their  old 
homes,  and  which  had  been  carefully  laid  away  against  the 
day  of  possible  need.  The  young  women  did  their  level 
best,  you  bet,  with  the  scanty  material  at  hand,  to  add  to 
their  natural  attractions.  The  men  looked  ruefully  at  their 
patched  solitary  suits,  of  a  style  belonging  to  a  past  rustic 
generation,  and  meditated,  with  indecision,  as  to  whether  it 
were  better  to  sacrifice  the  little  remaining  pride  of  personal 
appearance,  to  their  desire  to  see  the  preacher,  and  to  hear 
the  "  sarmint." 

I  had  requested  of  the  "  Old  Settler  "  that  he  would  accom 
pany  me  on  the  occasion,  and  assured  him  that  it  would  afford 
me  great  pleasure  to  attend  under  his  escort. 

"  Durn  it,  mister,"  was  his  response,  "  don't  be  a  pokin 
fun  at  a  feller.  Look  here,  how  about  goin'  to  meetin  in 
sich  trousers  ?  " 

As  he  said  this,  he  turned  slowly  around,  and  with  his 
finger  directed  my  attention  to  about  a  score  of  patches,  of 
as  many  different  colors. 

I  had  a  curiosity  to  see  how  the  man  would  deport  himself 
at  a  religious  meeting,  and  to  hear  his  after  comments  upon 


164          THE  "OLD  SETTLER"  GOES  TO  CHURCH. 

the  services.  And  so  I  informed  him  that  I  had  a  pair  of 
tolerably  good  pantaloons  that  I  would  give  him,  but  feared 
they  would  prove  much  too  short  for  his  style  of  legs. 

"  That  don't  make  a  mite  of  difference/'  he  rejoined,  "  ony 
so  as  they  aint  patched.  I  don't  mind  a  patch  or  two  on  the 
seat,  or  on  the  knees,  for  everybody  here  hez  to  wear  them 
kind.  But  when  a  feller's  trousers  is  all  patches,  somehow 
he  hates  to  go  to  a  place  where  most  everybody  else  hez  on 
better  clothes.  Leastwise  I  do,  and  I'll  be  durned  ef  I  kin 
git  over  it.  I  know  poor  folks  oughtn't  be  proud,  but 
human  nater  will  go  agin  what  it  oughtn't  to." 

Noticing  that  his  shirt  hung  in  rags,  and  having  some  un 
bleached  muslin  in  the  house,  I  proffered  him  sufficient  for 
that  article,  provided  he  thought  his  wife  could  manage  to 
make  it  up  for  him  in  time  for  the  meeting. 

To  my  surprise  the  man  manifested  genuine  feeling  at  this 
proposition,  and  the  tears  came  to  his  eyes,  as  in  a  subdued 
voice  he  exclaimed  : 

"  Durn  it,  mister,  you'm  a  leetle  too  good  to  such  a  mean 
cuss  as  I  am.  I  know'd  them  taters  wuz  froze  when  I  sold 
'em  to  you,  and  ever  since  then  I've  kinder  tried  to  git  the 
best  of  you,  for  I  sort  of  felt  that  you  couldn't  help  but  be 
lieve  that  I  wuz  an  ornary  rascal.  But  we  hadn't  a  pound 
of  meat,  nor  of  flour — only  a  quart  or  two  of  ingin — in  the 
cabin,  and  not  a  cent  to  buy  enny  with.  That  boss  in  the 
lumber  camp  run  away  with  all  our  winter  airnin's,  and  what 
could  a  poor  feller  like  me  do  ?  That's  why  the  devil  put  it 
into  my  head  to  sell  you  them  taters,  which  they  got  froze 
because  the  wind  blowed  the  snow  off  of  the  place  where  they 
wuz  buried.  And  when  a  man  hez  done  a  mean  thing,  and 
knows  it,  he  tries  to  bully  it  out,  as  though  he  wuz  right,  and 
tries  to  make  himself  believe  it,  though  its  the  dornd'est  hard 
est  job  ever  a  feller  undertook.  And  now  that  I  hev  owned 


GOES   TO   CHURCH.  165 

up  to  that  blasted  tater  business,  I  feel  better,  and  more  like 
a  man,  and  ef  there  wuz  ony  enny  preachin'  goin'  on  right 
here,  durn'd  ef  I  don't  b'lieve  that  I  should  git  right  down 
on  my  knees,  and  pray  of  the  good  Lord  to  fergive  me  of 
my  sins." 

Somewhat  astounded  at  this  blunt  and  unexpected  confes 
sion,  I  looked  searchingly  into  the  man's  face;  but  its 
expression  confirmed  all  that  he  had  said.  The  hard,  rigid 
lines,  the  bold,  defiant  glance,  in  which  courage  was  so 
mingled  with  cunning,  had  all  been  softened  down  in  a  mo 
ment  to  a  look  of  penitence  and  remorse.  The  better  nature 
of  this  buffeted  and  hardened  being  had  obtained  a  momen 
tary  mastery,  and  the  image  of  God  was  vindicated  in  this 
seemingly  most  reckless  and  abandoned  of  His  creatures. 
He  hung  his  head,  and  a  few  big  tears  rolled  down  his 
bronzed  and  weather-beaten  cheeks.  Was  this  a  passing 
emotion,  a  transient  gleam  of  the  purity  of  our  race  before 
sin  entered  Eden,  and  defiled  the  shrine  of  the  Divinity  with 
which  the  Creator  had  endowed  the  creature  ?  Or  was  it  the 
permanent  lifting  up  of  the  lost  and  degraded  to  his  original 
statue  before  the  Master,  which  Christ  promised  to  all  who 
would  confess  their  sins  and  put  their  burdens  upon  him  ? 

I  found  myself  unable  to  respond  to  what  this  uncouth 
being  had  so  earnestly  uttered,  so  strange  had  his  altered 
manner  affected  and  confounded  me.  I  entered  the  house, 
obtained  the  pantaloons,  an  old  vest,  and  a  few  yards  of 
muslin,  returned  and  handed  the  articles  to  him.  He 
received  them  in  an  humble  and  thankful  manner,  and  with 
out  saying  a  word,  walked  away  slowly,  with  bowed  head,  in 
the  direction  of  his  cabin. 

How  many  wretches  there  are,  who  are  nearer  the  King 
dom  than  the  judgment  of  even  good  men  is  willing  to 
admit !  O  !  ye  of  little  faith  ! 


166          THE  "OLD  SETTLER"  GOES  TO  CHURCH. 

About  nine  o'clock  on  the  next  Sabbath  morning,  a  man 
was  seen  coming  toward  our  cabin,  whose  appearance  at  first 
defied  all  my  efforts  at  recognition,  and  alarmed  the  female 
portion  of  the  household.  But  when  he  reached  the  house, 
and  uttered  his  "  good  mornin',  mister/'  the  "  Old  Settler" 
stood  revealed  before  us.  It  was  just  all  we  could  do  to 
restrain  our  laughter,  and  little  Alice  ran  indoors,  and  then 
fairly  screamed  with  mirth.  The  man  had  on  his  gift  panta 
loons,  which  were  fully  eight  inches  too  short  for  him,  and 
fitted  so  tightly  to  his  huge  limbs,  that  it  seemed  as  if  his 
legs  had  been  melted  and  run  therein.  There  was  a  space  of 
about  four  inches  between  the  top  of  his  pantaloons  and  vest. 
On  his  right  foot  he  had  a  large  cavalry  boot,  and  on  the 
other  a  low  shoe,  the  heel  of  which  showed  a  determination 
to  run  outward  and  turn  upward. 

But  that  new  shirt !  O,  for  the  pen  of  a  Dr.  McCosh ! 
As  it  is,  my  description  must  be  tame.  It  swelled  out  at  the 
bosom  like  a  balloon,  and  a  roll,  resembling  a  huge  yellowish 
life  preserver,  bulged  out  from  the  neutral  ground  between 
said  vest  and  said  pantaloons.  The  collar,  heavily  creased, 
unstarched,  hid  nearly  the  entire  of  his  head,  while  the  points 
came  around  in  dangerous  proximity  to  his  eyes.  The 
thought  suggested  itself  that  he  must  have  put  that  shirt  on 
wrong  end  up !  And  all  this  bodily  grotesqueness  of 
apparel  was  crowned  with  the  beautiful  new  stovepipe  hat  he 
had  captured  from  me,  on  the  occasion  before  described  in 
these  pages ! 

The  "  Old  Settler"  scanned  each  face  before  him  quickly, 
and  saw  the  evidence  of  restrained  mirth.  His  subdued 
expression  of  the  day  before  had  lost  much  of  its  humility, 
still  his  old  assurance  was  not  there.  If  his  heart  was  as 
changed  as  his  face,  he  had  become  a  comparatively  Christian 
man.  Our  furtive  scrutiny  of  his  dress  abashed  him  but  for 


THE  "OLD  SETTLER"  GOES  TO  CHURCH.          167 

a  moment,  and  then  with  one  eye  partly  closed,  and  a  humor 
ous  twinkle  playing  around  the  other,  he  asked  : 

"  Mister,  how  do  I  look  ?" 

"  Like  an  emperor,"  I  responded.  '*  When  we  first  saw 
you  coming  over  the  hill,  wre  all  thought  it  must  be  the  min 
ister." 

"  Well,"  he  rejoined,  in  a  good  natured  tone,  "  I  don't 
blame  you  folks  for  makin'  a  little  fun  of  the  old  man.  I 
ruther  guess  I  do  look  purty  durn'd  curious.  But  it  tuk  me 
and  the  old  woman  a  good  hour  to  git  this  riggin7  on,  enny- 
thing  like  ship  shape.  And  then  she  laid  right  down  on 
the  floor  and  laughed,  and  laughed,  and  laughed,  as  ef  she 
would  die,  which  I  almost  hoped  she  would,  and  between 
laughs  she  axed  me  not  to  go  a  cavortin'  around  among  the 
gals,  and  thus  break  the  heart  of  so  good  a  wife  as  she  had 
been  unto  me  for  nigh  upon  forty  years  past.  But,  mister,  I 
done  the  best  I  could,  which  the  things  didn't  fit  me  nohow, 
and  ef  you  would  ruther  not  go  with  me  to  the  meeting 
lookin'  as  I  do,  jist  say  so,  and  I  will  go  by  myself,  and  no 
hard  thoughts  agin  you." 

I  hastily  assured  the  "  Old  Settler  "  that  the  thought  at 
which  he  hinted  had  no  place  in  my  mind,  and  invited  him 
into  the  cabin.  As  soon  as  we  were  seated,  with  an  effort 
that  threatened  disaster  to  his  new  pantaloons,  he  crossed  his 
cavalry  leg  over  the  other,  and  said : 

"  Mister,  this  ere  boot  is  all  the  plunder  that  I  brought 
back  with  me  out  of  the  war,  when  I  fout  under  Old  Shar- 
man.  I  was  on  picket  the  day  arter  the  beautiful  scrimmage 
at  Missionary  Ridge,  when  I  seed  a  crow  sailin'  round  and 
round  over  a  little  bunch  of  bushes,  about  thirty  rod  from 
where  I  stood  watchin'  some  rebel  horsemen,  away  over  on 
the  ridge  of  a  hill.  Well,  I  went  over  to  them  bushes, 
which  it  wuz  agin  orders,  but  I  wanted  to  see  what  that  crow 


168         THE  "OLD  SETTLER"  GOES  TO  CHUHCH. 

meant.  And  there,  sure  enough,  laid  a  rebel  officer,  flat  on' 
his  face,  dead.  There  was  no  sword  in  his  scabbard,  and  no1 
money  in  his  pockets,  which  I  sarched  for  the  sake  of  his 
family.  But  he  hed  on  a  good  pair  of  new  boots,  and  I  wuz 
about  barefoot.  And  so  I  tuk  hold  of  one  of  'em,  and  after 
tuggin'  mighty  hard  for  five  minutes,  which  the  leg  was 
swelled,  I  managed  to  git  that  boot  off.  Then  I  tackled  the' 
other,  but  I  couldn't  budge  it  a  mite.  I  seed  that  a  cannon 
ball  had  knocked  the  knee  of  this  leg  all  to  flinders,  and  so* 
tjie  poor  feller,  which  he  was  a  big,  good  looking  chap,  had 
managed  to  crawl  into  the  bushes  and  die.  Well,  I  yanked 
away  at  that  tother  boot,  for  I  guess  fifteen  minutes,  without 
gamin'  a  mite  on  it.  At  last,  fur  I  expected  the  Relief 
every  minute,  I  gin  it  an  almighty  jerk,  and  the  hull  thing 
cum  off  at  the  knee,  scndin'  me  head  foremost  onto  the  ground ! 

"  Well,  mister,  I  hed  no  corkscrew,  you  know,  and  so  I  hed 
to  leave  that  boot,  which  was  a  shame.  I  daren't  take  it 
into  camp  with  the  leg  in  it,  for  the  boys  would  hev  give  me 
some  durn'd  nickname  about  it,  which  I  never  would  hear 
the  last  of. 

"But  it  wuz  jist  my  luck,  fur  everything  has  seemed  to  go 
agin  me,  from  the  time  I  wuz  a  little  boy.  But  I  held  on  to 
tother  boot,  all  through  Tenesee,  Georgee,  North  Carliny, 
clear  to  Pottymax  Court  House,  and  at  last  brought  it  home 
with  me.  I  hev  never  wore  it  afore  to-day,  only  wunst 
when  I  went  to  'lection  to  wote  fur  Old  Greeley.  Folks  sed 
he  ony  wore  one  boot,  and  that's  the  why  I  woted  fur  him." 

The  time  to  move  for  the  meeting  had  now  arrived,  and  we 
started,  leaving  the  rest  of  the  family,  who  were  decidedly 
averse  to  close  companionship  with  the  "  Old  Settler  "  on  this 
occasion,  to  follow  at  a  respectful  distance.  Arrived  at  the 
school-house,  we  found  about  forty  people  assembled,  anxious 
for  the  appearance  of  the  preacher.  Among  them  were  a 


THE  "OLD  SETTLER"  GOES  TO  CHURCH.          169 

number  of  strangers  from  the  mills,  a  much  better  paid  and 
better  clothed  class  than  any  of  the  permanent  settlers.  The 
moment  my  companion  entered  and  took  his  seat,  a  general  gig 
gle  went  around  the  assembly.  The  mill  men  were  particu 
larly  demonstrative,  and  scanned  my  companion's  dress  with 
broad  grins,  and  insulting  gestures  of  supercilious  superiority. 
The  old  man  noticed  this  at  once,  and  his  face,  determined  at 
all  times  in  its  expression,  darkened  with  anger.  At  last  he 
leaned  over  to  me  and  whispered : 

"Neighbor,  as  soon  as  the  sarvice  is  over,  I'm  a  goin7  to 
shake  up  two  or  three  of  them  durn'd  Yankee  mill  fellers 
to  see  ef  there  is  enny  manners  in  'em.  I  mean  to  shake  'em 
good — so  they  will  stay  shook  ontil  the  next  preacher  comes 
along." 

He  then  raised  his  huge  fist,  and  brought  it  down  three 
times,  with  a  heavy  "  thug"  upon  his  knee,  looking  hard  at 
the  offenders  all  the  while.  The  insulting  demonstrations 
instantly  ceased.  All  the  country  round  knew  that  "Pete 
Higgins "  was  a  dangerous  man  to  be  lightly  trifled  with ; 
for  in  strength,  activity,  and  courage,  he  had  no  equal  in  the 
entire  county,  and  he  never  calculated  the  odds,  when  fully 
aroused  by  insult  or  injustice. 

It  was  fifteen  minutes  past  the  time  when  the  preacher 
arrived.  As  he  entered  and  stepped  upon  the  low  platform, 
the  whole  audience  was  at  once  hushed  into  silence — the 
silence  of  awe.  There  appeared  before  them  a  man  over  six 
feet  in  stature,  erect,  thin  in  features,  long,  white  hair  that 
fell  down  upon  his  shoulders,  and  a  port  and  bearing  such  as 
is  ascribed  to  one  born  to  command.  His  large,  eager,  black 
eyes  gleamed  with  a  strange  light  that  seemed  not  of  earth, 
and  appeared  to  emit  a  holy,  confident  defiance  against  an 
ungodly  world  in  arms.  If  there  ever  was  a  man  fearless 
of  martyrdom,  that  apostle  of  faith  was  now  before  us. 

L 


170          THE  "OLD  SETTLER"  GOES  TO  CHURCH. 

"Friends,"  he  commenced,  in  a  low,  sweet  tone,  of  almost 
womanly  tenderness,  "  I  am  seventy  years  old  this  day,  and 
find  that  at  last  I  have  miscalculated  my  strength.  I  walked 
from  Pcntwater  (twelve  miles  distant)  this  morning,  to  meet 
you  here,  and  became  wearied  by  the  way.  The  spirit  was 
milling  but  the  flesh  was  weak.  God  tries  his  servants,  and 
his  enemies,  alike  by  the  same  physical  laws.  My  limbs  are 
not  as  lithe  as  in  the  years  that  are  past.  But  the  strength 
that  is  left  to  me  shall  be  cheerfully  spent  in  His  service — 
glory  to  His  great  name!  Let  us  pray." 

The  preacher,  with  both  arms  extended,  stood  erect,  but 
every  head  in  his  presence  was  bowed  as  by  a  common  im 
pulse.  And  then,  in  a  low,  solemn  voice,  he  prayed : 

"God  of  all  space;  God  of  the  wilderness;  God  of  the 
waste  places,  where  no  man  is;  God  of  the  city  full,  where 
sin  flaunts  its  disregard  of  Thee  even  in  Thy  temples,  soften 
my  heart,  and  the  hearts  of  these  Thy  neglected  children,  that 
they  may  be  opened  to  the  admission  of  Thy  spirit,  and  Thy 
grace  abound  therein,  even  as  the  waters  fill  the  limits  of  the 
great  deep.  Let  not  the  rod  of  Moses  be  weakened  in  the 
centuries  of  sin,  and  shame,  and  crime  ;  for  there  are  hearts 
now,  even  here,  whose  waters  are  sealed  as  with  adamant,  and 
Thy  power  alone  can  cause  them  to  flow  forth  to  vivify  for 
eternity  the  graces  and  the  glories  of  redeemed  mortality. 
God  of  all,  Saviour  of  those  who  will,  Sanctifier  of  the 
blessed  who  die  in  the  Lord,  show  Thy  power  through  Thy 
servant  this  day,  unto  this  people,  and  the  glory  shall  be 
unto  the  Giver  of  every  good  and  perfect  gift — Amen!" 

The  preacher  was  not  heard  in  his  prayer  for  "  much 
speaking,"  but  that  moment  there  were  live  coals  upon  rude 
altars,  that  had  perhaps  never  felt  the  glow  of  a  religious 
emotion  before.  Faces,  unwonted  in  solemnity,  revealed  the 
thoughts  that  had  startled  the  soul  within.  The  people  had 


THE    "OLD    SETTLER "    GOES   TO    CHURCH.  171 

listened  to  a  prayer,  instead  of  an  affectation.     God  is  only 
with  the  word  when  the  utterer  is  with  God. 

Then  the  old  apostle  took  from  his  pocket  a  well  worn 
book,  and  read  out  a  hymn.  Finding  that  none  of  his 
audience  could  assist  in  that  comforting  part  of  the  service, 
'he  sang  the  selection  alone,  in  so  earnest  and  touching  a  man 
ner,  that  even  those  who  neither  comprehended  its  words  or 
sentiments,  wTere  affected  by  an  inspiration  of  the  emotions 
into  a  sort  of  religious  appreciation  that  was  depicted  plainly 
in  their  faces.  For  myself,  I  had  never  heard  the  hymn 
before,  but  well  do  I  now  remember  one  recurring  line : 

"  Jesus  of  Nazareth  passeth  by." 

But  I  have  listened  to  it  since,  and  rendered  in  such  low, 
soft,  sweet  melody,  as  to  thrill  my  soul  almost  into  harmony 
with  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect. 

Then  the  preacher  announced  his  text :  "The  poor  have  the 
gospel  preached  unto  them." 

I  have  heard  very  many  pulpit  discourses  in  my  day,  from 
the  wordy  lips  of  the  religious  demagogues  of  the  Beecher 
school,  who  in  the  motto  of  the  shopkeeper,  "  study  to  please," 
to  the  zealous  fanatic  who  rants  shockingly  about  sublime 
truths  which  his  shallow  brain  is  incapable  of  comprehend 
ing,  and  who  approaches  God  more  as  a  familiar  than  as  a 
worshipper.  But  never  until  this  day  had  I  heard  a  preacher 
who  came  so  near  the  ideal  standard  of  my  conception  of 
what  a  dispenser  of  the  Word  should  strive  to  attain  to. 
There  was  none  of  those  painfully  disgusting  exhibitions  of 
vanity — of  self — peeping  out  of  studied  oratorical  sentences, 
now  so  common  with  the  clergy  of  our  blinded  and  self-de 
ceived  congregations.  As  friend  talks  to  friend,  earnest  for 
his  welfare,  did  .this  man,  his  eyes  fixed  first  upon  one  listener, 


172          THE  "OLD  SETTLER"  GOES  TO  CHURCH. 

and  then  another,  speak  of  the  Redeemer  of  the  race,  his 
sinless  sufferings  for  the  sins  of  others,  ending  in  the  most 
horrible  of  deaths.  He  told  his  hearers  how  Christ,  leaving 
the  unjust  of  wealth,  and  the  powerful  of  oppression,  to  their 
own  ways,  went  among  the  lowly  and  the  despised,  bound  up 
the  broken  hearted,  and  lifted  the  soul  of  the  beggar,  up  to 
the  inheritance  of  an  eternity  ever  glorious  in  immortality, 
that  all  the  potentates  of  earth  could  neither  give  nor  take 
away.  Standing  there,  his  tall  form  dilating  in  his  fervent 
passion,  his  large  eyes  emitting  magnetic  flashes  that  held  in 
the  bonds  of  wonder,  fear,  and  amazement,  the  most  stupid 
listener,  he  seemed  the  risen  personification  of  the  great 
Apostle  of  the  Gentiles.  Toward  the  close,  unwearied  in 
effort,  and  unflagging  in  utterance,  he  stepped  from  the  plat 
form,  walked  down  among  the  people,  raised  the  little  child 
ren  in  his  arms  and  kissed  them,  laid  his  hands  upon  the 
heads  of  hardened,  stalwart  men  and  blessed  them,  while  his 
exhortations,  so  full  of  touching  pathos  for  the  welfare  of 
others,  shed  a  holy  influence  upon  all  present,  and  sobs  and 
groans  from  hearts  that  had  never  uttered  them  before,  at 
tested  a  power  greater  than  that  of  man. 

At  the  close  of  the  meeting,  which  lasted  nearly  two  hours, 
the  strange  preacher,  of  whom  no  man  present  knew  ought, 
prepared  to  depart.  He  refused  all  invitations  to  dinner,  and 
to  remain  over  night,  stating  that  he  stood  in  need  of  neither 
food  nor  shelter  then,  and  that  the  Lord  would  provide 
against  the  hour  of  his  necessity.  With  a  parting  blessing, 
he  again  walked  forth  into  the  wilderness,  another  John  the 
Baptist,  upon  his  mission. 

I  had  become  so  wholly  absorbed  in  the  wonderful  utter 
ances  of  the  strange  preacher,  that  I  had  forgotten  to  observe 
the  effect  upon  the  "  Old  Settler  "  up  to  this  time.  When  I 
at  last  looked  for  him,  I  discerned  that  he  had  left  the  room, 


THE  "OLD  SETTLER"  GOES  TO  CHURCH.          173 

and  was  standing  some  distance  from  the  door,  his  back  to 
wards  us,  rubbing  an  old,  ragged  fragment  of  a  handkerchief, 
in  a  hasty  and  impatient  manner,  over  his  eyes  and  face.  He 
had  evidently  been  weeping,  and  was  trying  to  obliterate  this 
evidence  of  his  weakness. 

Just  then  the  mill  men  started  in  a  body  on  their  way 
home.  The  "  Old  Settler  "  turned  around  upon  them,  and 
confronting  the  leader,  said  : 

"  Mister,  you  had  ought'er  hev  thanked  thet  preacher,  afore 
he  went  away.  He  hez  saved  you  from  one  of  the  durnd'est 
lickings  ever  a  Yankee  got  in  these  parts." 

The  old  man  maintained  his  half  defiant  attitude  for  a  few 
moments,  as  though  anxious  that  his  adversary  would  make 
some  demonstration  that  would  release  him  from  the  moral 
resolution  he  had  formed,  under  the  effect  of  the  preaching, 
to  forgive  the  previous  insults.  But  to  our  surprise  the 
"  yankee,"  who  was  evidently  a  sensible  man,  and  of  kindly 
feelings,  asked  pardon  for  his  thoughtless  offence,  and  declared 
that  he  was  sorry  for  it. 

"  Durn  my  pictur  !  durn  everybody  !  "  exclaimed  the  "Old 
Settler,"  as  he  wheeled  around  out  of  the  path,  his  eyes  again 
flushed  with  tears,  "  ef  I  aint  a  gittin'  to  be  a  great  blubberin' 
baby,  who  is  ashamed  of  hisself ! " 

And  thus  speaking,  he  joined  me  and  we  started  home 
ward.  We  had  walked  some  little  distance  in  silence,  when 
my  companion,  ridding  himself  of  a  deep  sigh,  said  : 

"  Mister,  I  aint  as  big  a  fool  as  you  think  I  am.  This  hat 
is  yourn.  I  know'd  you  didn't  intend  to  give  it  to  me  about 
them  bugs.  But  I  thought  it  a  good  chance  to  git  the  better 
of  you  agin,  and  so  I  tuk  it.  It's  jist  as  the  preacher  says. 
When  a  man  does  one  mean  thing,  the  devil  is  always  on 
hand  to  coax  him  to  foller  it  up. 

"And,"  he  continued,  after  a  brief   pause,  and  another 


174          THE  "OLD  SETTLER"  GOES  TO  CHURCH. 

sigh,  "  I  wish  I  was  dead,  ony  I  aint  fit.  I  owe  you  ten 
dollars  fur  them  taters,  which  was  froze,  and  five  more  dol 
lars,  borrered  money.  Now  I've  got  a  heifer,  which  she  will 
come  in  next  spring.  She  aint  got  hardly  enny  flesh  onto 
her  bones,  but  she's  wuth  all  of  fifteen  dollars.  She's  yourn." 

I  assured  my  companion  that  nothing  could  induce  me  to 
accept  his  proposition,  and  that  I  could  afford  to  lose  all  he 
owed  me,  without  the  least  inconvenience.  At  any  rate  he 
must  not  think  of  paying  me  until  he  was  abundantly  able. 

"  I  know  what  you  mean,"  said  the  "  Old  Settler,"  you 
want  me  to  feel  easy  like,  ez  if  I  hedn't  done  ennything 
much  wrong.  Thet  won't  do.  The  preecher  told  me  what 
God  expects  a  man  to  do  what  has  cheated  his  neighbor.  He 
sed  we  must  pay  back  agin  four  fold.  Thet  I  can't  do. 
Well,  then,  what  I  kin  do,  comes  next.  Mister,  don't  let 
your  good  natur'  make  you  talk  what  ain't  right.  A  bad 
feller  kin  find  excuses  enough  fur  his  wickedness,  without 
hevin'  tolerably  good  folks,  who  know  better,  tryin'  to  help 
him  cheat  them  and  hisself  too." 

I  felt  sorely  rebuked  at  this  unexpected  logic,  from  this 
awakened  man — awakened  to  new  ideas  of  his  responsibility 
to  Deity — and  before  I  could  collect  my  thoughts  for  a 
response,  he  struck  a  by-path  that  led  to  his  cabin,  and  soon 
disappeared  in  the  woods. 

I  arose  early  the  next  morning,  and  on  opening  the  door 
of  my  cabin,  there,  upon  the  head  of  a  barrel,  was  my  new 
hat !  After  breakfast  I  went  down  to  the  barn,  and  there, 
lying  by  the  side  of  my  own  two  beautiful  calves,  "  Hagar  " 
and  "  Daisy,"  was  the  poor,  thin  heifer  of  the  "  Old  Settler!" 

In  the  night  he  had  come  and  made  all  the  restitution  in 
his  power !  How  many  of  the  "  converted"  sinners  of  our 
city  churches  have  ever  done  the  same  ? 


THE  "OLD  SETTLER"  GOES  TO  CHURCH.          175 

I  intend  to  keep  that  animal,  pet  and  feed  her  well,  and 
when  she  "comes  in,"  next  spring,  the  wife  of  the  "Old 
Settler"  shall  have  her  as  a  present,  if  it  is  in  my  power  to 
effect  such  purpose.  The  result  will  be  made  known  in  my 
next  volume. 


TO  MY  LITTLE  SPARROW. 


POOR  little  birdie,  with  feathers  so  brown, 
How  do  you  feel  when  the  snow  conies  down, 
With  its  wintry  mantle  all  over  the  town? 
"Chip!"  "chip!" 

And  the  wind  whistles  wild  round  every  corner, 
And  you  so  unlike  little  Jack  Horner, 
Who  had  a  snug  place  in  the  chimney  corner? 
"Chip!"  "chip!" 

Dear  little  bird,  to  my  window  sill  come, 
For  while  my  cupboard  has  in  it  a  crumb, 
I  will  fast  myself,  but  you  shall  have  some. 
"Chip!"  "chip!" 

From  the  dark  clouds  above  the  white  drift  is  tossed, 
And  thy  poor  little  body  is  pinched  with  the  frost, 
Yet  the  hope  that  God  gave  thee  can  never  be  lost ! 
"Chip!"  "chip!/' 

The  days  are  now  near  when  thy  little  brown  wing 
Will  be  spread,  mid  the  beauty  and  odor  of  Spring, 
And  thy  heart  its  new  birth  of  enjoyment  will  sing, 
"Chip!"  "chip!" 

Teach  me,  little  bird,  to  be  strong  against  fate, 
To  see  through  the  storms  of  my  earthly  estate, 
The  sunshine  that  gleams  through  the  Heavenly  gate ! 
"Chip!"  "chip!" 


MY  ANGEL. 


rTHEE,  O,  God !  I  lift  my  rescued  soul,. 
In  holiest  praise, 

To  bless  Thee  for  the  saving  hope  vouchsafed 
My  later  days. 

When  all  was  but  as  darkest  frowning  night,— 

No  kindling  beam 
Threw  o'er  the  weary  waste  of  a  long  life, 

One  cheering  gleam. 

Swift  to  the  gulf  of  my  unblest  despair 

An  angel  came, 
And  bending  o'er  the  fearful,  dark  abyss,. 

Whispered  my  name ! 

Then  in  my  leprous  heart  a  glory  shone 

At  Thy  command, 
And  through  the  darkness  of  my  fate  I  saw, 

My  angel's  hand ! 

Safe  to  the  Rock  she  lifted  up  my  feet 

From  sensual  mire, 
And  purified  my  former  evil  thoughts 

From  base  desire! 

Immortal  Spirit !  bless  this  angel  bright, 

So  dear  to  me, 
Who  lifted  from  my  soul  eternal  night, 

And  bade  me  see ! 


TO  THE  READER. 


MY  DEAR  FRIEND  :— You,  individually.  My  first 
effort  in  the  book  line  is  before  you,  (or  rather  behind 
you  now) — either  for  condemnation,  approval,  or  a  mixed 
sentiment  of  both  feelings.  It  is  no  hypocritical,  self-depre 
cating  utterance,  which  holds  hidden  vanity,  when  I  assure 
you  that  I  am  not  proud  of  the  performance.  That  the 
work  was  not  undertaken  from  high  moral  considerations,  or 
a  desire  to  add  to  the  instructive  productions  of  the  day,  or 
to  exalt  the  tone  of  public  literature,  is  evident  from  the 
careless,  hap-hazard,  contradictory  tone  that  permeates  most 
of  the  enclosed  pages.  My  object  was  to  make  a  little  money, 
not  from  a  mercenary  consideration,  but  because  misfortune 
created  necessity.  I  could  have  made  more  money,  and  made 
it  easier,  by  editing  a  Grant  newspaper  ;  but  then,  what  does 
it  profit  a  man  if  he  gain  the  whole  world  and  lose  his  own 
$oul!  Your  author — thanks  to  the  good  Lord  who  enabled 
him,  in  all  his  life  of  recklessness,  to  retain  a  fair  reputation 
for  at  least  personal  honesty — is  neither  a  Congressional 
Credit  Mobilier  villain,  or  a  low  back  pay  grabber.  In 
•other  words,  he  is  not  an  "  Honorable/7  who  professed  extra 
purity  for  the  opportunity  of  manifesting  extra  putridity. 
As  this  is  about  the  only  trait  of  character  I  have  to  boast  of, 
you  will  pardon  me  for  keeping  it  rather  ostentatiously  to 
the  front. 

From  such  a  character,  therefore,  you  could  expect  little 
else  than  common-place,  either  in  morals  pious,  or  morals 
pecuniary. 


TO   THE   EEADER.  179 

That  I  have  not,  in  these  pages,  outraged  a  religious  sen 
timent,  or  offended  reasonable  delicacy,  is  all  that  any  one, 
who  knew  me  by  my  past  life,  had  a  right  to  expect.  And 
in  what  I  have  \vithin  written,  this  negative  virtue  is  all  of 
which  I  am  congratulatory  proud.  To  conquer  a  lifelong 
habit  of  thought  and  expression,  is  a  victory  of  hopeful  im 
port,  under  the  proverb  that  it  is  "  hard  to  teach  old  dogs 
new  tricks !" 

Compact  the  time  in  which  this  book  was  written,  and  the 
sum  total  will  not  reach  ten  days.  Neither  plan  nor  plot 
was  studied  or  contemplated,  and  all  herein  contained  flowed 
from  a  pen  that  was  unaware  of  its  design,  and  pursued  its 
course  as  unpremeditated  thought  pushed  it  upon  its  journey. 
A  disjointed  medley,  and  an  unsatisfactory  whole,  is  the  ver 
dict  of  the  writer's  own  judgment.  If  the  reader  rises  from 
the  perusal  with  a  more  generous  estimate,  then  I  am  amply 
paid  for  my  efforts  in  such  reader's  behalf — your  own  little 
dollar,  now  snugly  in  my  pocket,  being  attached  to  the  moral 
consideration.  Without  that  addenda,  it  is  possible  that  my 
estimate  of  your  appreciation  might  lack  the  heartiness  which 
recognizes  the  "cheerful  giver."  Personification  of  unselfish 
ness  as  your  author  is,  he  has  the  modified  weakness  of  his 
tribe  for  the  root  that  is  said  to  foundation  all  evil.  The 
man  who  vaunts  his  disregard  of  "  filthy  lucre,"  be  he  priest 
<or  layman,  the  same  is  a  liar  of  the  grandest  magnitude,  and 
the  truth  is  not  in  him.  As  this  blow  hits  all  around,  the 
established  impartiality  of  my  character  is  not  injuriously 
affected  by  this  parting  swing  of  the  cudgel. 

And  now,  dear  reader,  man  or  woman,  we  part  right  here 
for  the  present.  If  this  little  book  of  mine,  neither  harmful 
or  useful,  which  I  sent  unto  you  with  so  much  doubt  of  its 
reception,  meets  with  a  favor  beyond  my  own  estimate  of  its 
merits,  then  will  you  have  conferred  upon  me  a  delight  hardly 


180  TO   THE   PUBLIC. 

hoped  for,  and  in  consequence  so  much  the  more  gratefully 
received  and  cherished.  And  the  immediate  aggressive 
result  will  be  (for  unexpected  success  makes  one  presump 
tuous,)  the  taxing  of  this  poor  brain  of  mine  for  another 
volume  of  an  entirely  different  texture  from  the  unfledged 
bantling  you  are  now  closing  from  perusal.  And  so,  with  an 
honest,  heartfelt  blessing  upon  you  and  yours,  now,  and  in 
the  unexplored  hereafter,  receive  my  affectionate  "  good  bye ! " 


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THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


